


Remnants, Volume I

by Yin



Series: Remnants: A Fantasy AU Duology [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 91,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/pseuds/Yin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where magic and monsters roam the land, it isn't a stretch to imagine that the remnants of the past would have an impact on the here and now.</p><p>Of course, it also doesn't help that our hapless group of adventurers are idiots when it comes to the epic stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pillow Talk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229439) by [Yin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/pseuds/Yin). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prequel Note/Warning:**  
>  ~I wrote a Prequel One Shot that I’d recommend reading first since this story is actually a direct continuation of it. You can find it under Inspired By:  
> Chapter 8 of _Pillow Talk_ called _Remnants: a Fantasy AU Prequel_  
> 
> 
> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

As far as Richard “Dick” Simmons was concerned, the temple was a marvel.

Who cared that the entryway had been left in disrepair so that it was swallowed by the forest around it?  Or that the inner sanctum was slowly starting to be encroached by the roots of ancient trees that were perhaps even older than the temple itself?  Who was concerned with things like the cracks that had started to breach through parts of the structure, or that the temple’s paintings and carvings had faded to near undiscernible levels?

After all, history was still humming through here.  The redhead could only picture the kinds of things this place had seen, the events that it had born witness to.  It was like a child trying to avoid bullies by traversing a museum while being given total and complete free reign.

Who _wouldn’t_ be excited by such a prospect?  Even more so with the dark blue crystal at the heart of this “exhibit” that was currently pulsing with a soft, muted light that indicated the piece was still very much active.

Simmons lingered next to the artifact, which was twice the size of his hand, fingers outstretched to the point where he was nearly touching it yet hesitant enough to not quite reach out entirely.  His scarred ears were soaking up the soft hum the crystal was emitting, just as surely as his fingertips graced the slight warmth still emanating from it.

He swallowed nervously, heart beating fast in his chest.  All he had to do was reach out and grab the piece, as he had done previously on other occasions.  Yet, he was always a bit anxious when it came to pulling artifacts like this one from their floating pedestals.

The Magic User was honestly shocked someone hadn’t claimed this particular artifact already given how closely located it was to a town.  But, he supposed the rampant sightings of Plague Monsters would deter _most_ travelers from attempting to disturb history, even if the prize was highly sought after.

“You know,” a bored voice stated directly behind him, “It’s not going to just jump into your hands no matter how much you want it to.  I tried that with food once.  Believe me, you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.”

“I—I know that!” Simmons managed to squeak out with only a slightly high-pitched tone to his voice.

He felt his face growing warm both from having been caught hesitating as well as due to Dexter Grif’s voice practically in his ear.  Why did the Orc always have to stand _so_ close?

The chubbier man’s words were certainly fitting for his current mindset though.  It figured that Grif wouldn’t be as reverential towards the history of this place.  Knowing the other man’s history with the Guild, he’d probably already been inside countless temples and historical sites just like this one.

Before Grif could comment more, and trying to ignore the Guild member’s breath tickling the back of his neck (seriously, _why_ so close?), Simmons grabbed the crystal and pulled it down in a desperate bid to save some face.

The blue crystal’s inner glow faded to a dull hue the second it had been pulled from the pedestal, and Simmons couldn’t keep his shoulders from slumping in disappointment at the sight.

Grif whistled slightly, “Another dud, huh?” He asked, his tone surprisingly sympathetic.

Then again, this _was_ the fifth area that they had scoured for Remnants and he knew how hopeful Simmons had been to find a true one.  It made sense that the tan-skinned man would be a tad sympathetic given that.

Simmons clutched the crystal close to his chest, “Yeah.  It’s another Relic, not a Remnant.”

Relics and Remnants were both artifacts left over from the time of the Elves.  They were practically identical in their appearances, though Relics only contained a small essence of magical energy and were often at their most powerful at their source of origin.  Remnants contained about fifty times more magic in them, often serving as a record of what had occurred at the time of their creation.

If the Orc legend of what _really_ happened to the Elves was true, then Simmons’ best chance to prove it was to find a Remnant with a record of that era on it.

It was very much a shot in the dark.  However, Simmons was determined to try and do so, if only because the ramifications could potentially alter not only history as it was currently known to be, but also how Magic Users such as himself and Grif were treated in general.

Such an outcome was worth as many shots in the dark as it took.  Still though, it was just a bit discouraging to have not yet even found _one_ Remnant after the few months he had already spent in the Outer Regions.

Grif punched the redhead’s shoulder lightly in a bid to get him to cheer up, “Well, it’s not like Relics don’t have their uses either.”

That was true.  Relics provided society with a great many comforts and uses it would be hard to imagine life without: vehicle transportation, lighting, communication over long distances, even…

His thoughts trailed off just then as there was a loud, inhuman sounding growl coming from outside the temple.  The structure around them quaked as if struck by something huge, bits of crumbling stone falling from overhead.

Simmons tried to quell the panic he was feeling just then as he raised a red eyebrow at Grif, “You mean like serving as a natural barrier against Plague Monsters when activated?”

Grif nodded, bo staff already out in front of him, “Yep, that _would_ be one of them.”

*****

The Plague Monster that attacked the temple ruins was the largest of the Wolf Kin variety that Grif had ever seen.  Normally, Wolf Kin were only slightly larger than the animals they so closely resembled in body shape.  Sometimes they could maybe be the size of a horse.

This one, however, looked to be around the size of a small building.  The Wolf Kin’s eyes were a piercing red as acidic blue drool seeped from its open, immensely threatening fangs.  Its body was hairless, showing off the massive musculature that had made it possible for the creature to shake the entire temple when it had slammed into it moments earlier.

The Orc’s grip on his bo staff tightened marginally.  Behind him, Simmons had dropped the Relic into the pouch they had brought with them to draw out his needle gun.

The Wolf Kin’s head moved in their direction, fangs still dripping as it snarled.  It raised a massive paw as if to swipe at them both as if they were nothing but paper in its way…

Suddenly, Tucker was there, the Beast Folk’s energy blade flashing through the air and blocking the assault.

The creature howled in mild annoyance, lowering its paw as it squared off against Tucker once more.  Their friend had clearly been fighting it for a while if his panting and dirt-covered clothes were any indication.

“If you two could save the pillow talk for later, that would be great!” Tucker shouted over an angry roar from the Wolf Kin.

The creature slashed at him, causing Tucker to jump back as his hands opened up for balance.  Unfortunately, his energy blade completely disappeared with the motion.  The Beast Kin growled himself before swiping out with his hands, acting more feline than ever in the heat of battle.

Tucker preferred holding his blade in a fight more, but the energy cuttings he could also create worked when in an offensive pinch.  As they were weaker variants of his sword they unfortunately didn’t break the monster’s strong hide, but it was enough to push the creature back.

It also provided enough of a distraction for Grif to race forward, his own magic ability flaring out past his tanned, orange-lined arms and hands.  The runes on his staff glowed as they transferred his explosive touch through his weapon and onto the intended target: the shoulder blade of the Wolf Kin.

A resounding boom knocked the creature back further and it yowled in pain, smoke and fire billowing from the impact site.  He’d put _a lot_ of force behind that blow, so there was no way it didn’t hurt.

Simmons fired his needle gun at the site as well, but the projectiles bounced uselessly off the already beginning to heal burn marks there.

“Dude, aim for its underbelly before it gets up!” Tucker advised, motioning towards the temporarily exposed weak point.

“O—on it!” Simmons fired again, the needles this time hitting their mark and sticking.

A bit of the Wolf Kin’s acidic drool fell onto the pale man’s shoulder due to how the creature’s teeth were thrashing and Grif felt the injury as if it were his own.  As the Plague Monster reeled up in pain, swiping down at the redhead and baring its teeth at him all the same, Grif pulled Simmons back just as Tucker leapt forward with his blade again.

He ran it through the beast’s underside and all the way up to its throat.  There was a gurgle and a spray of crimson as the Plague Monster finally fell to the ground, dead.  As soon as the monster went down, its body began disintegrating in a red mist, leaving behind a red-colored Relic.

Grif supposed someone nerdy like Simmons might find it interesting that the Plague Monsters turned into Relics themselves, but he always figured it had to do with how the Plague had been left behind by the Elves after their genocide.  The same as how the Relics and Remnants were.

…Or, for that matter, even the magic users themselves since they all had strange abilities due to the Elven blood racing through their veins.

Tucker grinned, playfully wiping at the specks of blood on his face before grabbing the left behind crystal and shoving it into his own pouch.  The dark-skinned man seemed pretty pleased.  As he should be, given how his Guild assignment in the area had been monster hunting.

“Not a bad haul.” Tucker proudly touched the pouch he carried before turning to the two of them, “What about you…?”  He trailed off when he saw their dejected faces, particularly Simmons’, and whistled, “Still no luck, huh?”

Simmons shook his head, revealing the blue Relic they had pilfered from the temple ruins earlier.

Tucker patted his shoulder sympathetically, the wince Simmons made not lost to Grif, “I mean, yeah, it sucks!  But, try to look on the bright side.” The Beast Kin told the redhead encouragingly, “The Relics you guys have collected can be put to good use as barrier protection or some shit.  Not to mention they’re worth a _fuck_ ton of money.”

“Th—that’s true.” Simmons tried acting less bummed than he was and failed miserably, “It’s better than finding nothing, right?”

“Fuck yeah!  That’s the spirit!” Tucker grinned at his recently made human friend.

Grif yawned just then, “Right now?  All I’m looking forward to doing is going home and eating.  Maybe taking a nap or two.  Or six.” He remarked, knowing the reaction that would receive.

He loved it when Simmons became anally passionate about dumb things.  Plus, the dark-haired man got an extra special kick out of it when he himself was the one who riled up the kiss-ass.

“That’s what you _always_ want to do, Grif!” Simmons chastised him.

The Orc shrugged, smirking, “What can I say, Simmons?  I’m a man of simple needs.”

“That’s—!“ The redhead spluttered, before sighing and shaking his head, “I give up.”

“As you should when I’m right.” Grif grinned triumphantly.

Simmons muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like _“lazy asshole”,_ but it had no heat or bite to it.  Grif’s smile widened.  Nearby, Tucker watched the exchange with his tail flicking in obvious amusement.

They started heading back in the direction of home then, though Simmons stopped to stare at the pouch he carried with obvious disappointment still lingering on his features.

“What’s wrong?” Grif asked, despite already knowing exactly what was going through the nerd’s mind.

Simmons shook his head and smiled weakly at the other man, “Nothing,” he tried reassuring him as he tugged at the pouch at his side, “I just want to head back now too for some reason.”

*****

The town of Blood Gulch was unique in that it lay extremely close to the territory of the Orcs.  In fact, it was so close to it that forty percent of its population were descendants of Orcs in some way or another.  Since Orcs tended to prefer staying in their own territory a lot of the time, that percentage often decreased the farther away one went from their territory due to their more limited involvement in the Outer Regions’ coalition.

Blood Gulch was a moderately sized town, and one that was peaceable enough for Grif’s mother to decide to transplant her children there following the death of Grif’s stepfather years before.  Simmons greatly preferred it to the bustling, overly crowded, and often times hostile environment of the city of Valhalla where he had grown up in the Unsc Empire.

As soon as they were back in town, Tucker bid them goodbye for the rest of the day.  The Beast Folk’s monster hunting stint for the Guild in the area was nearly complete thanks to this latest kill, so he wanted to head back to the inn he was currently staying at in order to pack up everything he had brought with him.

Tucker was apparently especially eager to do so since he would be reuniting soon with his son, who he hadn’t seen at all in the two weeks since this assignment had started.  Even though they communicated every night over Artifact Communication, Simmons knew that wasn’t the same as talking face-to-face with someone.

Tucker’s departure had left Grif true to his word on what he had planned to do as soon as they got back as well, with the Orc dragging Simmons over to the nearest outdoor eatery to grab some food.

Or _several_ plates of food, it was more like.  Simmons had to look away to avoid making a face as Grif started shoveling the food into his mouth, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist comments over healthy eating habits if he didn’t.

He only absentmindedly poked at the food that Grif had insisted on getting especially for him.  The redhead was way too skinny, and that couldn’t be healthy either the tan-skinned man always noted when Simmons tried to protest him giving him food.

Still, Simmons’ mind was focused currently on recent events, and once more on his mysterious appearance here in the Outer Regions.  Technically speaking, he should have been dead upon breaching the barrier that kept Magic Users from the city from leaving Valhalla.  But, here he was, and he _still_ couldn’t figure out how or why.

Grif had told him not to worry about it and to just be grateful he wasn’t stuck in a horrible place anymore, but how could he not?  Worrying was ingrained into Simmons’ very nature!

Not to mention that, for the five months since he had been here, he had been living off of the hospitality of the Grif siblings and he had nothing to show for it.  They’d even set him up in his own small room in their tiny house, one that was bigger than the cell he’d had at the Magic Division and much cozier.  All the while both brother and sister were telling him to make himself at home and not to worry, but Simmons always felt like a burden to them all the same.

Grif had even cut back on his paid Guild work to help Simmons with his search for Remnants, and the redhead hadn’t yet been able to repay him for that beyond giving him the Relics they kept finding instead to sell.  Truth be told, it was more than just a little upsetting and depressing.

“You aren’t eating.” Grif noted, sounding slightly disapproving as he glanced at Simmons’ still nearly full plate while his own were already all spotlessly cleaned of food.

Simmons blinked, the Orc’s voice bringing him back to reality.  He half-heartedly took a huge chunk of bread from the plate to pick at before pushing the rest to Grif, who seemed oddly conflicted over the promise of more food just then.

“Sorry.” Simmons told him, “I’m…not really hungry right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Grif shot him a knowing look, “What are you thinking about?”

The pale man supposed it was pretty obvious that his mind had been somewhere else.

“I was…just thinking about how things have been since I came here.” He admitted at length, “At how little progress I’ve made and—!“

“Simmons,” Grif cut him off quickly, reaching over and taking a way too large portion of cheese for himself from the plate between them while Simmons had to use all of his willpower not to comment on the action, “You need to—“

“There you are!” A loud, familiar voice suddenly shouted from close by, causing both men to wince at the proximity.

A girl with tan skin and shiny black hair was looking at them, hands on her hips.  She had the line marking on her skin that signified her Orc heritage, a pale yellow compared to Grif’s bright orange, along with rather delicate-looking (but, truthfully, very strong) yellow butterfly-like wings that revealed her Beast Folk lineage as well.

Kaikaina Grif fixed her brother with a pointed stare, “I figured if I looked around the restaurants long enough I’d find you stuffing your face!” She remarked triumphantly.

Grif groaned, “What do you want, Kai?  If it’s more money, you’ll have to wait.”

“Nah, I’m good there.” She told him, “Though I could use a new halter top because the last one I got fell off at the worst time.  It’s only good when that happens when you want it to, you know?”

Simmons’ face turned bright red, and he was glad he hadn’t yet eaten anything to choke on just then.

“Yeah, yeah…” her words sunk into his mind a second later and Grif frowned, “Wait, what?!  God damn it, Kai!”

The younger woman stuck out her tongue in playful challenge.

Grif sighed and shook his head, “So why were you looking for me then?”

Having had her fun at her older brother’s expense, Kai remembered why she was there in the first place.

“Oh, yeah!  Some Guild guy called when you were out.” The dark-haired girl informed him, “He talked a lot and I wrote it down, but it was pretty boring so I already forgot what he was said.”

Grif made a face before clearing the rest of the food from Simmons’ plate in four seconds flat, “Guess it’s a good thing I already ate.” He muttered before heading in the direction of their house to see just what the message was about.

Kai took up his spot at the table, nodding to Simmons with her usual friendly greeting for him of “What’s up, nerd?”

“Hey, Kai.”

They fell into a companionable silence following that, though Simmons noticed that despite her attempts to appear her usual carefree self, there was an uneasy edge about Kai.  More than once, she glanced over her shoulder cautiously at their surroundings.

“Is something wrong?” He finally decided to ask after about the twelfth time she eyed the area.

Kai made a face and shook her head, “Just some assholes who were making fun of my wings again.”

Beast Folk, particularly those with more unusual characteristics, were often the target of bullies simply because of their more “animal-like” appearances.  Doubly so if, such as in Kai’s case, said appearance also factored into an obvious Magic User ability.

Even though it didn’t seem possible given how her wings looked, Kai could fly and perform feats of acrobatics in the air that would make even the most seasoned circus performer or athlete drop their mouths in awe.

She caught the worried look on his face and waved a hand dismissively, “Don’t worry about it!  It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

Simmons didn’t doubt that, but seeing a friend being harassed didn’t sit well with him given his own painful experiences with such treatment—no matter how tough said friend was.

“Have you told Grif?” The redhead asked, knowing how protective the Orc was over his little sister.

Kai shook her head, “Nah.  I don’t want to worry him over nothing.”

Simmons knew based on past experiences just how traumatic and hurtful bullying could be.  However, before he could argue that harassment was hardly _nothing_ , the younger Grif gave him a sly look.

“Have the two of you finally worked out all of that sexual tension?” She asked, grinning and winking.

Simmons turned completely red at the question, his stuttering following completely nonsensible.

Kai laughed in response, “You guys just totally need to go for it already.”

Simmons’ brain was _still_ trying to formulate some kind of response when, thankfully or not so thankfully, Grif returned with an annoyed expression plastered on his face.

“W—what’s going on?” Simmons squeaked out, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject.

“I’m being summoned to Guild headquarters.” Grif stated with a long-suffering sigh before sitting next to Simmons on the bench.

He raised an eyebrow slightly when Simmons, still thinking about what Kai had said, fidgeted nervously at the proximity but said nothing.

“But that’s good, right?” Kai asked, not getting what the big deal was, “You can turn in all of the Relics you guys have collected.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Grif said, frowning, “They want to talk about what happened in Valhalla.”  The Orc noticed the sudden nervousness on Simmons’ face just then, “It’s nothing.  Really.” He assured him.

“Yeah.” Kai fixed her brother with a pointed look, “Knowing this dumbass, he probably just didn’t bother reporting in or something.”

“Shut up, Kai.” The sudden redness on Grif’s cheeks seemed to indicate that his sister was on to something there.

He turned to Simmons to explain further, “So I _may_ have glossed over some details about what happened, but it’s not a big deal.” He shrugged dismissively, “I’ll just go and explain things.  That will be it since there’s always refugees coming here from the Unsc.”

Simmons relaxed a bit, though he couldn’t help but get in one reprimanding remark: “I’m assuming it still would have been better to have told them everything from the start.”

Grif shrugged again and Simmons rolled his eyes.  But, still…

“Going to the Guild is probably a good thing, all the same.” Simmons informed the siblings, nodding to himself, “I can get their help in maybe trying to locate my cousins or a former teacher of mine.”

Ever since Freelancer had disbanded, Simmons had had a hunch that his cousins Church and Carolina were somewhere in the Outer Regions.  He just needed some assistance in figuring out _where_ exactly.  Plus, Sarge _was_ a Guild member, so using their directory to find his old mentor could be pretty helpful.

Not to mention, he might even be able to find out where Sheila was too with the Guild’s assistance.  Maybe he could at least send a letter through her to her sister so that Filss wouldn’t wonder what had happened to him.  After all, the two siblings had been the closest things he’d had to friends during his time in the Magic Division.

“…Yeah.” Grif only reluctantly seemed to agree at the prospect, though in his excitement Simmons didn’t pick up on it.

Kai, however, did…though she chose not to say anything about it in front of Simmons.  The younger sibling still made a face when her older brother talked again, addressing the redhead but wanting the meaning to not get lost on the tan-skinned girl.

“Before the two of us travel,” Grif was looking pointedly at Kai to let her know that she had to stay at home, “You’ll need to get your arm looked over.”

Simmons blinked in surprise at the comment, glancing down at his shoulder where he had received the slight acid burn from the fight with the Wolf Kin.  He was rather shocked that Grif had noticed the injury since he had tried to keep it hidden by acting as if it had only burned his clothes.  The wound was a relatively minor one that he didn’t think would be a cause for worry even if he didn’t treat it right away.

“You’re just too easy to read.” Grif stated in way of explanation, much to Simmons’ embarrassment.

“I—I am not!” A red-faced Simmons tried arguing.

“Uh-huh.” Grif smirked, “Whatever you say, Simmons.”

*****

As Simmons and Kai went off to see what they could do about the burn, Grif absentmindedly rubbed at the same spot on his own shoulder where he _felt_ the injury from Simmons as if it were his own.

The Orc sighed, “I really hope this fucking trip goes well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of _Remnants_ , the Fantasy AU that I was contemplating writing. Since people really seemed to enjoy the prequel one shot I did for this story verse in _Pillow Talk_ , I figured I would go ahead and expand it into a longer story.
> 
> This was a fun first chapter to write, and it picks up just a few months after the events of the prequel. We’ll be learning more about the Outer Regions as Simmons, Grif, and the others get seemingly swept up in one adventure after the next! Of course, there will be plenty of relationship developments along the way too. Naturally. XD
> 
> I will probably be updating this story and _When We Were Soldiers_ on a chapter to chapter basis. Once I have posted a chapter for one story, I will post a chapter for the other. Maybe, so long as I don’t end up doing a massive cliffhanger or something for one of them because I don’t want to be too mean! XD
> 
> I hope this first chapter was an enjoyable introduction to the plot. Hopefully, those who liked the prequel will find this longer story just as enjoyable! Thank you very much for taking the time to read this! :D
> 
> **Just In Case You Missed It:**  
>  ~I wrote a Prequel One Shot that I’d recommend reading since this story is actually a direct continuation of it. You can find it under Inspired By:  
> Chapter 8 of _Pillow Talk_ called _Remnants: a Fantasy AU Prequel_  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Dexter Grif ended up scarfing down another plateful of food at the stall before he decided to head back to his home.  After all, he _had_ worked pretty hard today.  Who knew what kind of hassles would be waiting for them in Armonia?  So, damn it, the Orc felt like he had earned a bit of a snack without judgement!

Of course, that meant that it was quite a bit later when he finally left the stall to begin heading down the peaceful winding streets of Blood Gulch towards his home.  The late afternoon sun was already casting long shadows in-between the buildings.

The glimmer of the Relic-powered barrier that protected the town from Plague Monsters was much more pronounced now than it had been earlier in the day.  It was truly a sight to behold at night though. 

Grif smiled inwardly at the sudden memory that came to mind of Simmons’ green eyes lighting up in wonder the first time the redhead had seen the barrier all aglow on a starlit night.

The tan-skinned man meandered through the streets he called home, somewhat amazed at how the town had grown on him since his mother had transplanted their family there years before.  Sure, the place had its problems, as all shitholes do.  But, it was nowhere near as hostile an environment as their earlier homes located deeper in Orc territory had been, especially for a way-too-young Magic User or a half Orc, half Beast Folk child who would eventually be left to grow up all on their own.

As he reminisced, the Orc meandered towards his destination.  The Grif house itself was a tiny but sturdy building designed to fit a family of three quite cozily.

It had always felt almost too big when it had been just him and Kai, but even Grif found himself a bit surprised at how the redheaded nerd’s presence made it feel more comfortable.  Having the Magic User there felt _right_ in a way that Grif had a hard time describing in words.

As he entered the home, the dark-haired man was surprised to find Richard “Dick” Simmons in his room.  The lanky kiss-ass was struggling in his thoughts regarding the amount of items that he had collected in his stay here over the months.

“What are you doing?” Grif asked, already knowing that the lack of Kai meant that she had no doubt gone to tell their friend Tucker the news as the Beast Folk would undoubtedly want to go back as well since Junior was in Armonia.

“What does it look like?” Simmons squeaked indignantly, gesturing to the items strewn about his usually immaculate room, “I’m trying to figure out what to pack!”

Grif glanced over at a paper nearby, raising a black eyebrow, “Did you seriously make a chart?”

The freckled face went red at the teasing tone in Grif’s voice, “They—they help me get organized, all right?” Simmons muttered lamely.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any nerdier.” The Orc couldn’t help teasing.

“Oh, bite me.” Simmons looked away in embarrassment, mumbling, “It’s not like I’ve traveled much.”

Grif frowned slightly, knowing the truth in the pale man’s words and feeling slightly guilty about teasing Simmons given how sheltered he had been before.

He sighed, tossing the chart out the hallway as he did so and ignoring Simmons’ cry of protest over the action, “Pack minimally.” He advised, “You’ll see why tomorrow.”

As he left Simons to ponder over his words, Grif couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he picked up the discarded chart and headed towards his room.  He loved surprising Simmons, and he figured their means of travel tomorrow would definitely do just that.

Suddenly, he was at least looking forward to going too if it meant he could show Simmons more of the life he had been denied before.

*****

Lavernius Tucker was already waiting for the three of them in the town square early the next morning, arms folded across his chest and his foot tapping on the ground impatiently.  There was an eager alertness in his brown eyes, along with the perkiness of his black-furred ears and the swishing of his tail.  Though that could easily be explained by how long it had been since he had last seen his son face-to-face.

“It took you guys long enough.” He stated in way of greeting, tilting his head slightly.

“Don’t blame us.” Kai stated matter-of-factly, looking pointedly at her brother, “Blame this chubby asshole for sleeping in.  Again.”

Grif yawned, as if determined to prove the girl’s point for her, giving the finger towards her general direction, “I had plenty of time, Kai.”

Simmons snorted, “Only because we couldn’t leave without you.”

Grif nodded satisfactorily, “See?  The system works.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet and definitely eager to see his son once more, “Whatever, man.  Let’s hurry up and go!”

As Kai fished through the satchel she had grabbed on the way out the door, Simmons looked around the rather empty town center in puzzlement.

“Are we traveling by foot?” The redhead asked due to the obvious lack of any nearby transports or pack animals.

At first Tucker seemed perplexed by his question, until a dawning realization crossed over his features.  The dark-skinned man grinned, his ears perking up even more, “That’s right!  You’ve never traveled with these before, have you?”

“With what?” Simmons looked on in confusion as Kai produced some kind of odd-looking spherical object.

“They’re called Future Cubes.” Grif said in way of explanation.

“Dude, I keep telling you that name is never going to stick.” Tucker sighed exasperatedly.

“Well, that’s what they _should_ be called.” Grif muttered defensively.

“They’re actually just referred to as Teleportation Orbs.” Tucker explained to Simmons, “The name probably explains the rest.”

“You just throw one of these at someone and they disappear.  So, when you or someone else throws another one, they’ll reappear.” Grif added, “Pretty fucking sweet, huh?”

Simmons was staring at the one that Kai was holding curiously, trying to process what they had said about the device’s ability, “But how does that even work?”

Grif sighed, “No point in wondering, Simmons.  Just be glad it does.”

Simmons frowned at the inherent lack of desire to simply _know_ in that sentence, when suddenly another thought crossed his mind, “But if someone has to throw another one for someone to reappear, then…”

What happens if they didn’t?  It was such a disconcerting thought that he couldn’t even finish asking the question out loud.

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Tucker assured him, “We’ve got that covered.”

Simmons looked over at Grif then, “Is this why you told me to pack lightly?”

A dark-haired nod was the Orc’s response, “Pretty much.”

“Are you guys ready to go or what?” Kai asked, sounding bored, “I’ve got places to be.  You know, people to do.”

Grif frowned at her last remark, “Kai!”

The younger Grif stuck her tongue out at her brother, grinning, “I know, I know!  No embarrassing the family.  Or house fires.  _Again_.”

The chubby man relaxed slightly at her reiteration of his few rules.

“…That you’ll know of.” She added a split-second later.

“God damn it, Kai!”

The tan-skinned girl winked at Simmons, “Look after my dumbass brother for me, nerd!  Okay?” Kai asked him right before she nodded slightly towards the whole group, “See you guys soon!”

Before the older Grif sibling could respond or yell anymore profanities, the dark-haired girl tossed the orb their way and suddenly the whole street disappeared, only to be replaced by…sky?

“Ow!” Simmons winced as the back of his head suddenly hit the ground and he realized he was looking up at completely different, much larger buildings than he knew to be in Blood Gulch.

Grif came into view a second later, holding his hand out to a still pain-riddled and groggy Simmons while Tucker appeared very nonchalantly a moment later.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, “I forgot things can get jumbled when it comes to traveling through the cubes.”

Simmons blinked and allowed Grif to help pull him up.  “Where are we?” he asked, looking around.

They were in what appeared to be a pretty decent-sized city, especially when compared to the smaller town of Blood Gulch.  Even though it was large, there seemed to be a sense of freedom and more space here than he had ever felt in the huge city of Valhalla.

“We’re in Armonia.” Grif told him, watching Simmons look around with a slight smile on his own face, “It’s the capital of Chorus.”

Chorus was one of the larger territories in the Outer Regions.  Simmons had heard of it in his studies because it was an important part of the coalition, and also because it was the home of the Guild.  As far as he knew, it was about as far to travel to from Blood Gulch as was possible for one to still be considered in the Outer Regions.  The city also held a sizable Seas population, and had the closest airship travel to the Unsc Empire.

That last note in particular had him a bit worried if this visit turned out to be a bigger issue than Grif thought it would be.

“You okay?” Grif seemed to be reading his thoughts given how seriously he was regarding him then, his larger hand tightening in a reassuring grip.

“I—I’m fine.” Simmons squeaked out, face reddening slightly.

“Whoa there!” A friendly, cheerful voice suddenly called out, “That was a bumpy ride, huh?”

The trio turned to see two younger people around Kai’s age standing nearby.  One of them, the dark-skinned young man who had just spoken up, was smiling sheepishly with his hand behind his head.  The other person, a pretty blond-haired girl, looked at all three apologetically.

“We’re so sorry, sirs!” The young woman stated quickly, bowing her head, “That wasn’t how the landing was supposed to go.”

“Hey, no worries!” Tucker was flashing a reassuring grin her way, “Those orbs aren’t the most reliable when it comes to reappearances.”

Simmons rubbed the back of his head and glared at his two friends.  Shouldn’t they have told him something like that so he could have been better prepared?

“Are you two from the Guild?” Grif ignored Simmons’ glare, apparently deciding it best to cut into the conversation before Tucker could embarrass himself with flirting attempts.

“Yes.” The blonde nodded, relaxing somewhat at now knowing they weren’t in trouble due to what had happened, “We’re Guild trainees.”

Ah, so they were new recruits.  No wonder they were acting so deferential to Grif and Tucker then.

“I’m Charles Palomo!” The young man said in way of greeting, motioning to his partner with a hand wave, “This here’s Volleyball.”

“Nickname.” She assured them, “Don’t ask.”

“Well, I just figured it was because you kept volleying—!“ Tucker was cut off when Grif hit him, “Ow!”

“We’re to escort you to the Guild Hall whenever you’re ready.” Volleyball, to her credit, acted as though Tucker had not even spoken before.

“No time like the present.” Grif muttered, catching Simmons’ eye as the other man gulped and nodded nervously.

*****

The giant but surprisingly humble-looking building that served as the Guild headquarters was in stark contrast to the imposing sight of the Unsc embassy just a few blocks away.  Simmons had nervously walked past it with his head lowered and Grif shielding him from view despite the assurances from the others traveling with them that the redhead would be fine.  As the group continued to head towards what was essentially the Guild’s home base, Tucker walked over to the two trainees.

“So Bones is home, right?” The Beast Folk asked them, “I know it’s usually her day off.”

Palomo nodded, “That is correct, sir!”

“Awesome.” He grinned, “Thanks for the info.”

“Bones?” Simmons whispered over to Grif.

“A friend from the Guild.  A healer.” The Orc said in way of explanation, “She volunteers to watch Junior whenever Tucker has missions.”

“I’m back now, so I’m definitely going to go and surprise my kid!” Tucker was grinning from ear to ear with anticipation, waving to Grif and Simmons as he turned to leave, “Hope the meeting goes well—!“

He stopped abruptly when he nearly walked into a blond Seas.  The man with gray and yellow-tinged skin glared slightly in annoyance, his clothes the same gray and yellow tones as his body.  Seas often wore same colored clothes as a form of camouflage for when they were swimming in their waters.

“Sorry, dude.  Kind of in a hurry.” Tucker remarked quickly before adding, “But, you know, it takes two to watch where they’re going.”

Gray eyes a few shades darker than the gray found on both the Seas’ body and clothing widened incredulously, “That doesn’t even make any sense.  At all.”

“Sure it does.” Tucker waved again at the others before sauntering off, “Later, guys!”

With that, the Beast Folk was gone to track down Bones and his son.  Tucker left the Seas man staring at where he had been before the stranger turned to the rest of the group as if looking for answers as to what had just happened.

All four of them whistled and tried looking as nonchalant as possible, leaving the blond to sigh in annoyed frustration and be on his way.

*****

Currently, the head of the Guild was a Seas woman named Vanessa Kimball.  The walk to her office was a quiet one since Volleyball and Palomo had both gone off to perform their other duties after leading Grif and Simmons to the entrance of the Guild’s headquarters.

Since Grif had been here many times before, he naturally took the lead up the stairs to Kimball’s room. 

The door was already open, three figures standing in the middle of the office space and seemingly in the midst of a conversation.

“…That concludes our findings.” A black-haired man stated with his back towards them.

A dark-skinned Seas woman with aqua tinges whom Simmons assumed was Vanessa Kimball nodded, “Excellent work, you two.  As always.”

“Well,” the brown-haired man with a scar running across one of his eyes smiled at the praise, “It is always a pleasure to work for the boss lady.”

Which meant that Simmons was right in his guess that the woman was Kimball.  A fact that was further made clear to Simmons when Grif coughed, causing all three to turn towards them.

“You wanted to see me… _us_?” Grif asked into the sudden quiet.

The Seas’ gaze went from him to Simmons and back again, a slight smile on her face, “That’s right.”

The two men standing close to Kimball looked at one another before speaking up.

“We’ll see ourselves out.  Maybe the trainees need some help or something.” The brown-haired man stated, nodding towards Grif as they moved past the two of them, “Hey, Grif.”

“Hey, York.” Grif greeted back.

There was something vaguely familiar about the name, but Simmons was too busy staring at the man’s partner to notice.

The black-haired man regarded Simmons curiously, “Can I help you?” He asked.

Simmons blinked, shaking his head.  No matter how much he looked at him, Simmons couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at a different version of Church.

But there was no way that could be true given how much lankier this man was compared to his cousin.  Plus, there was the fact that he had glasses and that his voice was completely different.  But still!  For some reason, the man standing before him reminded the redhead an awful lot of Church.

“S—sorry!” Simmons finally managed to squeak out in embarrassment when he realized just how long he had been staring, “You just remind me of someone.”

“D has that effect on people.” York commented with a remark that seemed to be something of an inside joke between the two men.

“If it helps any, I can assure you that this is the first time we’ve met.” ‘D’ stated quietly in a polite and friendly voice before nodding once more in farewell and exiting along with York.

Simmons shook his head once more, thoughts of his missing cousin disappearing when Kimball cleared her throat.  She was sitting at her desk now, motioning for the two of them to also take a seat.

The second they did so, she began without preamble, “Grif, you really need to file reports in a timely fashion.”

The tan-skinned man sighed, “I know, I know.”

“Fortunately there wasn’t a major incident that came out of this.  But there easily could have been.” The dark-haired woman looked exasperated, “Those reports help us keep facts straight.”

 “I was distracted.” The excuse sounded lame even from him, and Grif looked over at Simmons subconsciously for a second.

Kimball regarded Simmons carefully just then as well, “So I see.” She said at length, “Simmons, correct?”

“Y—yes?” The redhead sat up straighter under her regard.

“I finally received Grif’s report the other day, but is there anything you’d like to add about what happened?” Kimball asked him, voice both serious and gentle all at once.

The parts that he could remember he really didn’t want to dwell on.  Besides, he had a feeling that Grif had covered them well enough.  As for the others…

“How I got through the barrier without dying, I—I can’t say.” Simmons admitted apologetically, shoulders slumping, “It’s mostly a jumbled blur.”

“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully, tapping webbed fingers on her desk, “That makes sense given how Tucker and Grif described your condition afterwards.”

Her words from earlier came back to Simmons and he glanced at her curiously, “There really was no incident with Valhalla?”

Given what had happened, it would seem like protocol would have dictated _some_ response, even if Simmons wasn’t considered a top-tier Magic User by anyone in the Magic Division.

Kimball shook her head, frowning, “We haven’t heard a peep from the Unsc over this.”

“But that’s—!“ Even Grif seemed surprised by the admission.

“…Highly unusual, yes.” Kimball’s frown deepened as she interrupted, “In the rare cases when a Magic User can escape to the Outer Regions, the Unsc at least files a report with us.  They often even agree to our request to grant refugee status, though reluctantly.”  The Seas stared at Simmons as she continued, “But they never so much as said a word about what happened this time,” she smiled, “So I honestly just wanted to meet you to make sure you were real.”

“It was a pretty big event.  The Orcs were even all pissy about it at first.” Grif frowned at whatever memory that comment dredged up in his mind about how his own people had reacted, “I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.” Kimball looked at them carefully, “If it weren’t you and Tucker who were involved, I would swear this whole thing was planned on purpose.”

As if Simmons would ever prove _that_ useful to the Unsc.  He smiled ruefully, remembering his father’s face the day his magic ability had been confirmed before muttering: “Or maybe no one cared enough to file the report.”

Silence filled the room following that, with Simmons unable to look at either person’s face just then.  Particularly Grif’s, for some reason.  Instead, he stared at the hands resting in his lap and willed himself not to cry in public.

After a few moments, Kimball spoke up gently, “Grif says you are trying to research Remnants, Simmons?”

He nodded, not currently trusting his own voice.

“We can always use Guild members who are interested in that kind of research.” She stated, motioning towards Grif, “If you’d like, Grif could sponsor you as a member.  That way, you’d have Guild backing for all of your ventures.”

Simmons looked at her in surprise, “R—really?”

A dark-haired nod, “Really.”

There was a brief buzzing of an Artifact Communicator on her desk, and the Seas woman suddenly glared at the square, metallic object.  “I forgot that I have a meeting with the Unsc representative.” Kimball muttered, nodding to the two of them dismissively with a terse tone to her voice, “You’ll have to excuse me.”

Grif tugged on Simmons’ shoulder as he stood up, dragging the redhead with him, “Come on, nerd.  We have some paperwork to fill out.”

Simmons stared at the Orc questioningly, shocked that Grif of all people would want to voluntarily leave to go and do actual work.

Grif saw the green-eyed expression and rolled his eyes, whispering, “Trust me.  You do _not_ want to be in the room when Kimball and Doyle start talking.”

*****

The reason for the tan-skinned man’s earlier remark was made apparent when Grif and Simmons brought the sponsor paperwork to the front desk.  Even from where her office was located up on the top floor, they could _hear_ two distinct voices yelling loudly at one another from Kimball’s office.

One was that of the Guild’s leader, while the other was a heavily-accented male voice that belonged to the Unsc representative named Donald Doyle.

Evidently, diplomacy could be a frightening thing.

Grif could tell that Simmons was about to ask if that was how all of their meetings really went when someone came up to take his Guild registry papers.

The person stopped, busy staring at Simmons incredulously with their clear, crystalline hand poised over the forms.  “Simmons,” the woman breathed out, eyes widened in shock, “Is it really you?”

Simmons paused, recognition flaring in his mind a second later, “ _Sheila_?”

She smiled at both of them and the Orc recognized her as a Guild member from the Unsc.

“It is nice to see you again!” Sheila told Simmons, her crystalline body beaming from the light along with her smile and voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter was difficult to write since I needed to create more set-up for future story happenings. I apologize if it seems written oddly given that! On the plus side, some more characters introduced into the plot (did anyone catch Washington?) and a few more familiar faces will be meeting up with Grif and Simmons in the third chapter too! :)
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter at least! Thank you as always for taking the time to read this story! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons could scarcely believe it even though he had been aware of the fact that Sheila had been sent on an “exchange program” of sorts to the Guild.  For some reason, the possibility of running into her at the Guild Headquarters itself had never once crossed his mind.  It would be nearly as akin to a situation in which he would have magically stumbled into Carolina and Church while just traversing about.

That wasn’t to say that he hadn’t been aware of such a possibility, and the Magic User would be lying if he had said he hadn’t been desperately hoping to see some familiar faces while experiencing his newfound freedom.  But, the chances of such an occurrence had been so slim that his brain couldn’t even begin to fathom how to react now in this particular moment.

Sheila waited as patiently as ever, and the redhead was distantly aware of Dexter Grif beside him as the chubby man began annoyingly tapping his foot on the ground.  He shot the Orc a frustrated look, but the action caused his brain to finally start processing once again.

“W—what are you doing here?” Simmons managed to squeak out, hating how high-pitched he sounded just then.

“I help out with administration duties here at the Guild from time to time.” Sheila’s answer was followed by a quick tilt of her crystalline head, hair frozen in hard shape around her shoulders, “Though I think the real question should be what are _you_ doing here?”

She was only being naturally curious and inquisitive with her tone lacking any demanding quality to it.  It was as if Sheila really was just catching up with an old friend just then and not someone who, by all accounts, should not be standing before her.

“W—well…” Simmons began before trailing off, unsure of how to explain the current situation.  Fuck, he _still_ wasn’t really sure how he had gotten here himself.

He shot a quick glance over to Grif for help, who thankfully took pity on the poor redhead.

“It’s complicated.” The Orc told Sheila, “We’re still not quite sure about how this nerd managed to get through the barrier ourselves.”

Sheila glanced between the two of them, an oddly knowing tint to her clear eyes for a second before she nodded her head in understanding.

“I see,” her voice lowered to a sympathetic note, “I should have realized such was the case given that your father didn’t allow you to go on exchange programs previously.  I’m sorry, Simmons.”

Her comment caused Grif to look at him curiously, and Simmons made it a point to not meet the inquisitive dark-eyed gaze.  He really didn’t want to discuss his father of all people just yet, especially not to people who had no idea as to what his past was.  Instead, the lankier man nodded gratefully to Sheila for her kindness.

“So, given that then, along with these Guild registration papers, I take it you’ll be staying in the Outer Regions for a while?” Thankfully, Sheila moved the subject along at a quick pace when she realized how uncomfortable the mention of Hargrove had made Simmons.

The redhead nodded, knowing she understood that he didn’t have much choice in the matter.  Not that he really had anything to go back to in the Unsc, but still!

Seeing Sheila again made him think of her diamond form sibling, and though he knew the subject was undoubtedly as tough for her as it was for Filss, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Have you heard anything from Filss lately?”

She was a good friend of his too, after all.  He had been worried that perhaps his unexpected absence could have caused her some kind of distress.  That was the last thing he would want.

Sheila shook her head, statuesque features suffused with worry, “I’m afraid not.” She informed him, “In fact, I never received a response from her regarding my last communique.  It is most unusual.”

That _was_ abnormal, especially since the sisters were only allowed to communicate with one another every few months.

“I’m sorry, Sheila.” Simmons really wasn’t sure what else he could say, but he wanted to console the other Magic User somehow, “I…I’m sure she’s fine.”

Given how Filss was considered a valuable asset by many in the Magic Division, Simmons’ father included, he suspected that was indeed the case.  At least, he hoped so.

“I believe so too.” She shot him a brave smile before deciding to change the subject, “Though I have heard from Sarge.”

Simmons’ ears perked up at the news, “R—really?” He asked, voice barely containing his excitement.  After all, it had been an even longer time since he had last seen Sarge than since he had last seen Sheila.

Now standing behind the two old friends, Grif scoffed, “Who hasn’t heard from Sarge?” He asked, “He’s just as loud and insane as ever.”

 _That_ got Simmons’ attention, and he wheeled around to stare open-mouthed at Grif, “You—you know Sarge?”

Grif seemed surprised by his reaction, “Of course I do!  The guy’s probably been around the Guild since it was founded.” He shuddered, “Plus, he’s fucking crazy.”

Simmons frowned at that last comment.  Sarge might be eccentric, but calling him _crazy_ was going a bit too far.  The Magic User was just about to say so when someone harrumphed loudly behind them.

“No doubt you’d say that, Grif.” A familiar voice stated rather gruffly, “You’re too unmotivated to see the true genius of my flawless battle strategies.”

Grif groaned as Simmons stood there agape, “What strategies?” The Orc asked, “When I was your trainee, all you did was have me stand in front of the Plague Beasts for you!”

“Well, how else did you expect to distract them?” The older man in red shot back.

Grif was about to say something in response when he looked over at Simmons and fell silent.

The other young man looked as though he might faint or cry at any moment.  The redhead was going through some kind of emotional upheaval by first meeting Sheila again, and now…

“S—Sarge?” Simmons managed to squeak out.

Sarge was standing there in the same red adventuring garb that he had worn when he first came to Valhalla, as well as when he eventually left it later on in disgust.  The older man swore that he had been born in the thing and would die in it.

Behind Sarge were two other men.  One was a tan-skinned man in a similar brown adventuring outfit around Grif and Simmons’ age who looked rather exasperated just having to be there at all.  The other man looked to be a few years younger with dirty blond hair.  He was dressed surprisingly in pink and seemed rather excited to be present for this exchange despite being a total stranger to the redhead.

All three of the newly arrived men turned to regard the nearly beside himself Simmons curiously.

Sarge looked completely shocked for a split second before he recovered enough to smile fondly, “Well, if it isn’t Simmons!” He exclaimed in a loud, jovial voice, “Welcome to the Outer Regions, son.”

*****

The group of six were currently walking through the streets of Armonia.  As far as surprise reunions went, Simmons had to admit that things didn’t go quite as he imagined they might back in Valhalla on the lonely, sad, and especially tough days.  But, he supposed that was just the way life went.

Who could’ve guessed that he would even be here at all, let alone meeting up with two familiar faces again?  The redhead was grateful that Grif was there with him too.  For some reason, having the Orc’s presence nearby had helped his mind avoid a total freak out.

After having run into Sarge, they all had somewhat unanimously agreed that the noisy Guild Headquarters was not the best place for introductions, especially since both Vanessa Kimball and Donald Doyle had gotten progressively louder within the confines of their heated conversation.

It had actually been Sarge’s suggestion to step outside for a while, though the older man had been a bit disappointed to do so all the same.  According to the young man in pink (or as he referred to it as, _lightish-red_ ) and his apparent love of gossip, they learned as they exited the building that there was a healer Sarge was rather sweet on who was often found at the Guild Headquarters.

“…And this here is Lopez!” Sarge was stating in conclusion after having introduced his two assistant Guild members while motioning to the tan-skinned man with unusual red eyes currently holding hands with Sheila.

“They’ve been dating for a few months now!” Sarge’s other assistant, the young man they had just learned was named Franklin Delano Donut, whispered over to Grif and Simmons, “Aren’t they just _adorable_?”

“Estamos presentes, ya sabes.”  _{“We are present, you know.”}_

Sheila smiled and squeezed Lopez’s hand reassuringly, “I think it’s sweet.” She said, nodding over at the younger man, “Thank you, Donut.”

Simmons smiled at the couple, happy that his friend had found someone.  It seemed as if Sheila was doing quite well for herself outside of Valhalla, even with both worrying about and missing her sister.  In a way, it made him hopeful as well.

“Lopez is special.” Sarge was saying now, beaming with anticipation and something akin to pride, “Some might even call him my pride and joy.”

“Oh no. No otra vez.”  _{“Oh no.  Not again.”}_

Lopez stopped walking suddenly, Sheila and the others regarding him questioningly.

Simmons glanced between the two men at Sarge’s words, “Do you mean he’s your son, sir?” He asked, feeling all at once both surprised and envious of the possible reveal.

“Yo no quiero tener la charla de nuevo. No animarle.”  _{“I do not want to have the talk again.  Don’t encourage him.”}_

“He’s as close as I’ll probably get.” Sarge stated proudly, grinning, “I created him with my own powers.”

Simmons blinked, surprised at the admission.  He knew that Sarge’s magic ability was to create weapons using his own life-force.  But, creating a _whole person_?  Well, that was something else entirely!

“Yep,” Sarge nodded at the shocked expression on his former pupil’s face, still grinning, “It nearly killed me, but the experience was totally worth it in the end.” He stated with a satisfied tone to his voice, “Now I have someone to pass on my legacy.”

“Algunos legado. Ni siquiera se podía conseguir que hable el mismo idioma que usted.”  _{“Some legacy.  You couldn’t even get me to speak the same language as you.”}_

“That’s…that’s incredible, sir!” Simmons exclaimed, completely in awe over the whole concept.

Sarge's grin turned larger, patting the redhead’s shoulder, “Now I remember why I always liked you, Simmons!”

“Because he’s a kiss-ass?” Grif questioned nearby.  Simmons shot him a glare that the Orc had the nerve to simply _smirk_ at.

“Because he respects authority and the chain of command.” Sarge amended, looking pointedly over at the dark-haired man with orange markings on his body, “Something that you always had trouble with, Grif.”

“Only when said authority constantly gave orders that made no sense!” Grif muttered under his breath.

“Al menos otra persona se da cuenta de eso.”  _{“At least someone else notices that.”}_

Sarge nodded his head in Lopez’s direction before deciding to continue with his earlier talk by just ignoring Grif’s outburst, “Lopez here was so grateful for the gift of life that he’s been traveling with me ever since.”

“... Sólo porque todavía no estoy seguro de lo que sería de mí si fueras a morir.”  _{“…Only because I’m still not sure what would happen to me if you were to die.”}_

Donut nodded at whatever it was that he thought Lopez had said just then, “That’s right, Lopez!  Then my getting assigned to Sarge made us a happy trio of adventurers for the Guild!”

Lopez sighed and shook his head in exasperation before smiling gratefully at Sheila for simply being there.  While witnessing that motion from the two lovebirds, Donut simply waved his hand and a glass full of water was suddenly in his grasp.

Simmons started at its sudden appearance, knowing about Donut’s teleportation powers from his earlier extremely long and energetic introduction that hadn’t actually said much about his past at all: _“Leaving no hole unexplored is my specialty!  Well, that and tossing!  I’ve got a great tossing hand from loads of practice.”_   But, knowing about something beforehand and seeing it in action were two very different things.

“So your family is still in the Unsc, Simmons?” Donut asked thoughtfully, taking a sip of his recently procured drink.

Simmons gulped, a heavy pit in his stomach at the mention of his family again, “Ah, that’s right.”

“Must be tough.” Donut looked sympathetic, “I can imagine that they’re worried sick about you.”

His mother, most likely, would be.  Though she hadn’t tried stopping it, the pale-skinned man recalled that she had cried when his father had cast him out.  But, Malcolm Hargrove?

“I doubt your father is anything but angry you got away from his Unsc-approved thugs.” Sarge muttered darkly just then, cutting into the conversation and the redhead’s thoughts, “As far as I could tell, he always was a bastard.”

Simmons blinked, surprised to hear Sarge speak out about his father so vehemently.  The older man must have been really holding himself back whenever he’d stormed out of Hargrove’s presence in a huff back at the Magic Division.

“Th—that’s—!” Simmons began, seeing the curious look on Grif’s face in particular and for some reason feeling suddenly _ashamed_.

“You’re better off here.  That’s for sure.” Sarge continued, nodding his head, “No matter how fantastically it happened.”

Simmons could have cried, he was so touched, “Thanks, Sarge.”

As they continued walked, the redhead felt a grip on his shoulder.  He turned to find Grif in close proximity, gesturing for Simmons to follow him momentarily to a side-alley they had just passed.  He did so, regarding the Orc questioningly.  Surprisingly, however, Grif simply stood there grinning at him.

“W—what?” The freckled man asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“Nothing.” Grif shrugged before elaborating, “It’s just great to see you relaxing and opening up some more.”

For some reason, that remark from Grif combined with the smile still plastered on his tan face had Simmons’ own becoming rather hot.

“It’s…it’s been nice.  Getting to catch up with Sarge and Sheila.” He finally mumbled out, having to glance away from the Orc’s continued happiness.

“I bet.  Even if one of them is a bit too maniacal for me.” Grif was regarding him seriously a second later, brown eyes lit up with curiosity, “Though from what they’ve said about him, I take it that your dad’s a bit of an asshole?”

More than just a bit of one.  Simmons winced, not exactly wanting to discuss his father…well _ever_ , and especially not with Grif of all people.  For a reason he couldn’t quite identify just then.  What would he think if he knew that Simmons was related to a man who had a ton of clout in the Unsc?

He didn’t want anyone, Grif in particular, to hate him for it.

Perhaps his reluctance and fear was clearly visible on his face, because Grif’s expression softened slightly and he held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“It’s okay, Simmons.” He told him, “You don’t have to tell me anything just yet.”

Simmons let out a sigh of relief, some of the tension melting away from his body at the reassurance.  He didn’t have to say anything.  Grif wouldn’t hate him yet…

They remained standing there in relative silence for a few more moments, the chubby man regarding Simmons carefully as if afraid he might bolt at any second and trying to figure out a way to avoid that from happening.

“Simmons.” Grif finally stated, breaking the other man from his thoughts with a surprisingly serious tone to his voice.

“Y—yes?” Simmons blinked.

The tan-skinned man looked rather uncomfortable just then, “Actually, there’s something I should probably tell you.” He began, shifting awkwardly on his feet, “About how you made it through the barrier.”

Simmons tilted his head questioningly to the side, curiosity welling up inside of him at the sudden change in Grif’s tone and demeanor as well as at the subject itself.

“You see…” Grif started before someone else’s voice interrupted whatever it was he had been about to say.

“I _thought_ I saw you guys!”

A familiar dark head of hair suddenly poked its way into the side-alley, Lavernius Tucker grinning.

There was a small figure standing behind the Beast Folk, and Tucker patted the young boy’s shoulder reassuringly before he continued, “Simmons, this is Junior and he’s the best fucking kid you’ll ever meet!”

The boy looked rather similar to Tucker, though his smaller black-furred ears and tail seemed to indicate some human lineage in him.  His tail swished back and forth nervously as he nodded his head slightly in greeting towards his father’s two friends.

Whatever Grif had been about to tell the redhead just then was put on the backburner as he rolled his eyes at Tucker’s comment, “No biases, huh?”

“Dude, I don’t need any when it’s the truth!” Tucker stated proudly.

“Hi, Junior.” Simmons greeted the child, bending down slightly so that he was closer to Junior’s eye level, “Your dad’s said a lot of good things about you.”

“Really?” Junior glanced at his father questioningly as if to make sure that Simmons was in fact telling him the truth, brown eyes glinting hopefully.

“Totally.” Tucker assured him before looking over at the two men curiously and motioning outside of the alley again, “Is that Sarge waiting for you guys there or is he just acting as crazy as usual?”

*****

Grif wasn’t sure how or when it had been decided that Tucker and Junior would tag along with them.  But, for whatever the reason, the now added onto retinue made its way back to the Guild Headquarters quite some time later.

Of course, that had been after Donut had loudly declared that he was done with window shopping for the moment even though that hadn’t been the original reason for their meandering in the first place.

The Orc didn’t complain too much about the added company.  In fact, he was grateful that Simmons seemed more at ease with his current situation due largely to the happy and energetic goings-on around him now.  Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, especially to the kiss-ass himself.

All things considered, Grif could even lie to himself a bit and think that maybe it was a good thing that his talking about the Linking Magic had been stopped before it really began for the moment.  Simmons had a lot on his plate currently and was just starting to feel comfortable after their meeting with Kimball.  The redhead didn’t need something else to potentially freak out over.

True, the Orc was just delaying the inevitable and he knew it, but Grif was more relieved by that currently than anything else.  He needed to pick the _best_ time to explain everything.  Who the fuck even knew when that would be?

The dark-haired man was more than content to let things play out, provided that Simmons stayed close by.

When their group approached the building that served as Guild Headquarters, there were two figures at the doorway that gave Grif and the others pause.  They were a well-known pair to those who had been Guild members for a while.

“Ah, hello.” The tall man with pale blond hair and equally pale blue eyes greeted the group with a nod of his head.

“H—hello!” The black-haired boy, who was only a few years older than Junior, stated quietly from next to where they both were seated by the main entrance.

“North.  Theta.” Sarge took over with the pleasantries for the group, “Always good to see you, but what’s the occasion _this_ time?”

The blond, North, smiled grimly, “An urgent matter came up.  One that required Doyle speak to Kimball about it face-to-face.”

Simmons glanced over at Grif questioningly, the only one out of their odd assortment of people who didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.  Grif sighed, taking pity on the redhead and leaning over to whisper to him, “North and Theta are Guild-appointed bodyguards for Doyle.”

“Why does he have Guild-appointed bodyguards?” Simmons asked curiously.

It was a good question given the high tensions between the Unsc and the Guild.  Not to mention between Doyle and Kimball in particular.

“There were some attacks against the Unsc by mercenaries and this group of assholes called the Insurrection a while back.” Grif told Simmons, frowning at the memory, “You know, one of those groups claiming to fight for the Outer Regions but making life harder for everyone living there instead?  Well, Kimball wasn’t satisfied with the security measures the Unsc responded with, so she’s been deploying North and Theta to watch Doyle’s back ever since.”

“I—I see.” Simmons was staring at the two newcomers in their midst, particularly Theta, as if on the cusp of recognizing something or someone.

“Something wrong?” Grif asked, noticing the regard.  It reminded him of the odd sense of déjà vu that Simmons had apparently experienced when meeting Delta for the first time earlier that day.

Simmons blinked and shook his head, “No.  Just reminded of someone, is all.” He muttered under his breath a second later, “But that’s impossible.  The kid seems way more polite than _he_ ever was at that age.”

Theta and Junior were already off to the side and having a child-friendly private conversation amongst themselves.  Junior didn’t really know too many kids around his own age, and so the assistant Guild member had quickly become something of a friend to him when they had first met.  Grif was about to ask what Simmons meant when he caught wind of the tail end of North’s conversation with Sarge.

“…Your timing is good since I think she will be calling for you guys eventually.” North informed the older man, stepping aside from the door, “You might want to head in now.”

“Much obliged.” Sarge turned to the group, nodding his head slightly, “Let’s get going then.”

Junior paused to look over at Tucker pleadingly, and Tucker laughed at the almost puppy-like expression on the young half Beast Folk’s face that was made even more amusing by the fact that he had obviously feline features, “You can stay and chat more with Theta, kiddo.  If it’s all right with North.”

“Of course.” North smiled indulgently, “We’ll keep a good eye on him.  Right, Theta?”

“Yes!” Both Theta and Junior were practically jumping into the air at the prospect of being able to further catch up with one another.

With that, the group headed inside to find out directly what exactly was going on.  When they entered the main entrance, they were greeted by the sight of Kimball staring down a blond-haired human in white and gold-colored clothing.

Surprisingly enough, standing next to said human was the grey and yellow-tinged Seas that Tucker had nearly run into before as well as a black-haired human who seemed quite nervous about something.  The Seas’ expression was a serious and stern one, and the Orc was beginning to wonder if that was just the guy’s default setting.

The atmosphere was heavy and way too serious for Grif’s liking.  He had to avoid the temptation to grab Simmons’ hand and back out of the place slowly, a trick he had perfected during his time training with Sarge.

“It’s rare for you to come in person, Doyle.” Kimball said tersely in way of greeting, eyes taking in the assembled group and frowning before landing back on the man in white and gold clothes, “What’s going on?”

“Since it will affect both of our organizations,” Doyle held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, “I figured that the news I have should best be said face-to-face.”

“I’m listening.” Kimball’s expression was still the same guarded one that she always wore when interacting with the Unsc representative.

“As you’ll no doubt become aware of very soon, an airship was recently attack by pirates.” He paused, frowning, “Two people, registered Magic Users, are reported missing.”

“That sounds like those other missing people reports.” Tucker whispered nearby, and Grif couldn’t help but frown at the reminder.

For several months now, Magic Users had been attacked and taken from all over the Outer Regions.  It was an ongoing Guild case that had been infuriatingly low on leads up until now.

The blond Seas from before shot Tucker a glance, surprised recognition momentarily clouding his features before he stepped forward to address Kimball in his Serious Mode instead, “One of those missing people is the pilot.” He stated, pausing before adding quietly, “She’s a good friend of mine.”

“The other is a girl that I have been looking out for.” The black-haired man, who appeared older than the Seas, looked about ready to cry from worry.

Grif could understand why, given the situation.  If something like that ever happened to Kai…  He shook his head, not wanting to go there.

From beside him, Simmons touched his shoulder reassuringly as if having read his thoughts and he shot the redhead a grateful look.  Of course, Simmons would know what it was like to be targeted as a Magic User.  The Orc knew that he definitely wouldn’t wish that fate onto anyone else.

Kimball nodded sympathetically, putting the pieces together as to why both men had requested meeting her, “So you would like to request an official investigation and rescue mission from the Guild?” The Guild leader asked understandably.

Doyle coughed awkwardly, “Ah, all three of us would, yes.” He remarked.

The dark-skinned Seas with aqua tinges regarded him suspiciously, “Isn’t the Unsc going to run its own investigation?”

It was a valid question.  The airship no doubt had been carrying cargo that was from or heading towards Unsc territory.  Or had been carrying passengers who were from the area.  Otherwise, there would be no reason for Doyle to even be here.  Even though the attack evidently occurred in the Outer Regions, it would only make sense that the Unsc would have enough of a vested interest to at least officially request a joint investigation.

Doyle’s face reddened and he sighed at her inquiry, “With the Prince still unaccounted for and neither missing persons in this incident being from the Unsc, it seems as if resources are needed elsewhere.  My request to investigate the attack hasn’t been considered top priority.”

“Shocking.  To think that the Unsc’s top brass is more concerned with what is going on within their own borders.” Kimball remarked sarcastically.

The blond-haired man’s shoulders slumped at her tone, “ _Please_ , Miss Kimball, I did not come here to argue again.  I came to request the Guild’s help in this matter as well.” Doyle straightened slightly, voice taking on a slightly firmer edge, “My colleagues might believe otherwise due to these cases not being directly linked to the Unsc, but I believe resolving this situation once and for all is in everyone’s best interests.”

Kimball closed her eyes for a few moments in consideration as everyone in the space waited anxiously for her decision.

At length, she nodded, “We’re in agreement.  For once.” She stated emphatically, a determined look in her brown eyes, “The Guild investigation will begin immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More introductions were had, and the plot started to pick up a bit! :D Hopefully this chapter was as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Thank you so much for reading! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

C.T. stood uneasily with the small remainder of the Insurrection.  What once was a group that had hundreds of members was now reduced to a mere thirty.

She couldn’t help but frown at the memory of how that reduction had come to be.  Before its collapse, Freelancer had done a number on the Insurrection.  Sometimes even she herself had been forced to participate in the Freelancer attacks in order to keep her cover.

Though C.T. had never resorted to using lethal force, it didn’t make many of the Insurrection members particularly fond of the Freelancer spy.  Not to mention that her decision to not kill often also penalized her position in the Freelancer ranks as well.

Also unfortunate for the Insurrection’s ranks, they had met resistance from some exceptionally tough Plague Beasts when they had gone on retrieval missions for Remnants from various Outer Regions locales before either the Guild, Unsc Empire, the Coalition, or other groups could.

Things had only gotten worse following the death of the Insurrection’s leader, a loss that C.T. still felt for far too personal of reasons.  In-fighting over what the group should do next had resulted in either more death or just number losses in the form of deserters.

Not that C.T. could truly blame those who left.  Try as she and Sharkface might, it did seem more often than not that those remaining in the group were currently drifting aimlessly.

Which she supposed was the main reason as to why events had led them _here_ of all places.  The brunette frowned, glancing over at the steel-colored mercenaries on the other side of the forested area.

The Insurrection were the ones who had suggested the two factions meet here, in what was neutral territory for both parties involved.  It was a practical move from a strategic sense, but C.T. still couldn’t help but feel ill at ease.  After all, they _were_ dealing with Charon.

Their reputation was even less stellar than what the Insurrection’s was out in the Outer Regions, especially if you dug just a little bit deeper into their activities.  …Which C.T. was always in the habit of doing: a habit from her Freelancer days.  That natural suspicion was one of the reasons why she had even started questioning some of her own group’s activities as of late.

Wash and South would both just say she had far too inquisitive of a mind for her own good and, with the pang she felt at the sudden reminder of her old Freelancer friends, the dark-eyed female realized their memory still hurt too much.

She glanced over at Sharkface, who was pacing impatiently nearby as they waited for things to get underway, “Still think this is a good idea?” C.T. asked him.

The Insurrection member paused, casting a dark-eyed glare her way that was noticeable even through his decorated helmet.  Like so many of the Insurrection’s inner circle, he had always had a hard time trusting her due to her time in Freelancer and the Unsc, though that distrust had mellowed somewhat due to the two of them being the only ones still standing.  Still, suspicions died hard and C.T. had learned a long time ago not to take things like that personally.

“If you have a better idea,” the brown-haired man told her snidely, “I’d love to hear it.”

C.T. had to remain silent at that comment because she didn’t have one.  Not really.  Merging with Charon was the only remotely sensible thing the Insurrection could do to remain afloat.

Sharkface snorted at her silence, “Didn’t think so.” He muttered before glancing over at their dwindled numbers and then back over at the numerous Charon members on the other side of the meeting area, “Besides, if it means finally getting revenge, I don’t really care _who_ we join up with.”

That was always first and foremost on her teammate’s mind these days.  Not that the brunette could really blame the scarred man for it.  Still, it did mean that it was a wasted effort to try talking to him about things like “the bigger picture” and C.T. desperately _missed_ those types of idealistic conversations.

Her unease over the current situation only intensified when two figures strode out into the center of the field: one with orange mixed in with the steel of their armor, the other with green.

It seemed as if it was time to begin the meeting then.  As the designated leaders of what remained of the Insurrection, C.T. and Sharkface walked forward as well.

“How’s it going?” The brown-haired man in orange and steel asked jovially enough with a carefree grin on his face, “I’m Felix, and this is Locus.”

His large comrade remained stoically silent at the introduction, making him virtually impossible for the brown-armored woman to get a read on.

There was a sharp, assessing glint in Felix’s eyes a moment later when he most have noticed her tactical gaze that only intensified C.T.’s growing concern over what was taking place here, “Let’s talk business!”

*****

She crawled through the underbrush, trying to make herself seem as inconspicuous as possible.  Katie Jensen had never been more terrified in her entire life, save that one horrible instant when she had lost her parents. 

“Where’d the little brat go?” A voice called out from somewhere nearby.

“Don’t know, but hurry the fuck up and find her!”

The brunette swallowed nervously, hands shaking as she reached a broken off section of wall in wherever-in-the-Outer-Regions they were.  She dived under the wall for better cover, hoping that she wouldn’t be staying in this unknown area for too long.

Her heart was hammering away in her chest despite knowing that, even if she was caught, she couldn’t be physically harmed due to her invulnerability.  It was her stupid, frustrating ability as a Magic User and the reason why she was in this predicament in the first place.  The tan-skinned girl frowned at the reminder.

Years ago, Jensen had been the only one to walk away from a transport accident that had taken not only her parents from her, but Andersmith’s family too.  She hadn’t gotten a scratch on her, but the others hadn’t been so lucky.  They had all died immediately

Andersmith, a family friend, took her in after the accident.  He adopted her, treated her like family.  He never blamed her, but even though she knew logically that she hadn’t been responsible for the tragedy, the guilt had been too much.

So, Jensen had signed up to be a mechanic on an airship without even telling her guardian about it until it was too late.  The freckled girl hadn’t even had the courage to tell him face-to-face.  Instead, she broke the news to him in the form of a letter.

It had been a stupid, childish thing to do.  But, Jensen had needed to just get away from herself for a while.  The Magic User needed to be away from Andersmith’s unyielding kindness in the face of his own unimaginable grief.

She smiled self-deprecatingly at the memory because her luck was truly terrible.  In an ironic twist, what should happen next after she made her decision on what she thought was going to be best for her?   Well, the airship she was working on was attacked by these steel-armored jerks currently chasing her.  Naturally.

The group had actually allowed most of the airship crew and passengers to go free.  However, Jensen and the pilot, a dwarven woman simply known as Four Seven Niner, were taken into custody due to being Magic Users.

They had been brought to this secluded ruins area while the Magic User hunters awaited further orders.  That was when Four Seven Niner had provided a distraction by punching their guard while telling Jensen to run, and she had.  Which, of course, led back to the here and now.

Jensen looked from her hiding spot out into a forest several meters away.  If she could make it there, then then odds were good that she could lose her pursuers and find some help.

“Hey, kid!” A loud voice called out, clearly addressing her.

Jensen froze, back going still against the wall rubble.

“Come on out, nice and slow!  If you do, we won’t have to do something that we’ll all regret later.”

“Oh, _t_ hat’s _real_ fucking original.”

The female voice speaking sarcastically just then was so familiar that Jensen couldn’t help but glance beyond the ruined wall.

Sure enough, Four Seven Niner was being held by a man in steel with a sword to her throat.  Judging by the bruising on her tan face but the heavier coloring on the man’s own face, the dwarf had put up one hell of a fight before getting caught.

The man caught sight of Jensen and pressed the blade closer to Niner’s throat, drawing blood, “You have three seconds to make up your mind, kid.” He warned her.

“No!” Jensen shouted, running out from behind the wall.  She couldn’t go through that kind of guilt again.

Two others in steel were waiting for her, grabbing her arms and pulling her over to where the man in charge and Niner were.  They forcibly dropped both females to the ground, this time securing their wrists behind their backs with lengths of rope.

As the grumbling men went back to business as usual, Jensen whispered to Niner, “I—I’m sorry!  I just couldn’t—!”

Niner sighed, shaking her head and cutting the girl off, “It’s all right, kid.  It was a pretty big gamble on my part anyways.”

The two Magic Users sat in silence for a few minutes while waiting for whatever happened next before the dark-haired older woman sighed once more, “I’m just glad my brother didn’t decide to ride with me today.  That would have made this whole situation fifty times worse.”

Jensen, knowing that the pilot was trying to cheer her up a little, smiled nervously and tried not to think about whatever might be in store for them.

*****

Leonard Church woke up with a large groan, his blue eyes opening to a view of the rocky tunnel above him.  His head fucking _hurt_.

“What happened?” Were the first words out of his mouth a second later as his brain started to process his environment once more.

“ _Someone_ tripped and a rock may have hit your head.  Yeah, we don’t know who did it.” Caboose’s voice came from somewhere nearby, “Right, Freckles?”

“AFFIRMATIVE.” The blue-wearing dwarf’s gun familiar stated, not at all convincingly.

“I think we can all agree that it was definitely not anyone’s fault here,” Caboose continued, nodding his blond head at what Freckles had said moments before, “Especially not mine.”

Well, that answered _that_ question.

Church glared slightly up at the dwarf, hating how tall he was comparatively.  It made Caboose look as though he were towering above the dark-haired man, especially at this angle.

Truthfully, it was a major misnomer in the Unsc that dwarves were short.  The only a _ctual_ difference between dwarves and humans was that dwarves lived underground and, as a result, had keener eyesight and other senses. 

Carolina, who had been ahead of him in the tunnel, had come back and was now peering over her brother with both an amused and concerned look in her green eyes.

“You all right?” She finally asked him, proffering a hand to help him stand up.

He took the help gratefully, “Fucking fantastic.” Church muttered, rubbing the bruise that was sure to be on the side of his face just then thanks to Caboose’s trip earlier, “Remind me _again_ why we have to search for Remnants here?”

In the past, there had been several Remnants and Relics that had been found in the mining tunnels that the dwarves called home.  But, most of the well-mapped veins had been cleared of them already.

Their little travelling party was currently in a recently opened up ancient tunnel surprisingly close to Armonia.  In fact, the Church siblings were the first Guild members to officially investigate it.  Though, beyond a few Relics here and there, it seemed as if Caboose’s ancestors had done a fine job clearing the tunnel of anything remotely valuable before they had it sealed in disuse.

“You’re the one who volunteered us for this kind of Guild work.” Carolina couldn’t help but remind him.

The goateed man sighed, “Don’t fucking remind me.”

It was better than doing nothing or fighting endless waves of Plague Beasts, a task he knew his sister would have no issue with.  But, truthfully?  Not by much.

In this case, the task at hand was made all the harder by their Guild-appointed guide.  Every time they’d worked with Caboose in the past had been yet another headache for Church, in one way or another.

Carolina looked thoughtful for a moment, as if remembering something, “Any word from Delta or Theta?” she asked.

He frowned at the names, remembering the earlier sense of unease he had picked up from them both.  Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind again only to be met with similar sensations.

“It’s the same as last time.” He informed his sister, “Something is going on, but they haven’t felt the need to communicate and tell us to get back quick.”

Carolina frowned at the information, nodding slightly, “Let me know the second anything changes.”

He nodded, knowing that it was best that they play it safe until they knew more about what was going on, “In the meanwhile,” and Church couldn’t help but groan here, “It’s back to Remnant hunting, huh?”

The redhead nodded her head, smiling slightly as Caboose grinned and clapped his hands together, “Oh, yay!  We get to explore more with two of our bestest friends, Freckles!  I can’t wait to tell Sis!”

At the dwarf’s excited declaration, Church wondered just where exactly the loose rocks were when he needed them.  Even being knocked unconscious seemed a preferable alternative just then.

*****

“We think it’s most likely Charon given the nature of the attack.” The Seas man named Washington stated quietly.

“C—Charon?” Richard “Dick” Simmons frowned at the slightly familiar-sounding name, jotting it down in his notes all the same for future research.

Their group, save for Sheila, were still in the Guild’s headquarters sitting around a large meeting table.  Simmons’ old friend was needed at the desk currently in case someone else came to the Guild Hall in order to place a request.  Though the crystalline woman had been reluctant to leave her boyfriend and friends, Sheila did so with the promise of getting information from them about what they had learned later on.

They were currently getting statements from the two men who had come to Doyle with the initial report, though there wasn’t much that either Washington or John Elizabeth Andersmith could tell the Guild members that they hadn’t said already.

The two men were well-acquainted with both of the Magic Users who had been taken, and had even taken it upon themselves to interview the crew and passengers afterwards for more details.  That part of the retelling was when Washington, obviously a man with some kind of actual military history as opposed to the simple guard position that Andersmith had held, took over the conversation.

“Charon is an organization of mercenaries that handle questionable business affairs.” Kimball explained quietly in answer to Simmons’ question.

From next to him, Grif stiffened visibly and a foreign feeling of _unease_ crept over Simmons.  He glanced at the Orc questioningly, only to find Grif staring at the ground instead of meeting his gaze.

“What makes you think it’s them?” Sarge asked the Seas curiously.

The blond-haired man closed his gray eyes for a second, “Let’s just say I’ve had run-ins with them before.”

“Being cryptic isn’t going to help us any, dude.” Tucker advised him.

Wash snapped his eyes open to glare at the Beast Folk, “I’m not trying to be.” He stated seriously, “It’s just my disposition.  I guess.”

Tucker seemed taken aback by the honest answer from the other man, and for once didn’t have a snappy comeback.  Instead, his dark eyes looked the Seas over as if _really_ noticing him for the first time.

“It does fit the MO of several of their reported attack strategies.” Doyle supplied helpfully.

Kimball nodded in agreement, evidently already familiar with the group from Guild reports herself.

Given the not-at-all shocked expressions of everyone in the room, it seemed as if Simmons was the only one _not_ very familiar with Charon.  He hated feeling out-of-the-loop.

“Can’t be them.”

Simmons raised an eyebrow at the quiet voice that had spoken up just then next to him.  All eyes in the area turned to Grif at once, but he was still staring at the floor.

“G—Grif?” The redhead couldn’t help asking after a few tense moments of silence.

“There’s no way it’s Charon.” Grif repeated, a bit more emphatically than before.

A wave of disbelief washed over Simmons just then.  He blinked green eyes, unsure of where exactly that feeling had come from.

“What makes you say that, Grif?” Donut asked good-naturedly.

“Yeah, we all know that Charon takes on a lot of Guild-rejected jobs for all sorts of different groups.” Tucker pointed out.

Grif looked up then, brown eyes sweeping over everyone in the room before landing on Simmons.  When the chubbier man spoke, it was adamant, “They wouldn’t target Magic Users.”

“Que se sabe que debido a que ...?”  _{“You would know that because…?”}_

Whatever Lopez had said was lost as realization lit up Tucker’s face, “Hold up.” The dark skinned man began, “That group you sometimes still take jobs for, don’t tell me it’s—!”

Chairs in the office creaked as people stood up slightly, but Grif was paying them no mind.  He was still staring at a shocked Simmons, who was just now piecing together what everyone else in the room must have already realized.

Grif had worked for Charon.  Maybe he still was.  It just served as a reminder that there was a wealth of information about the Orc that Simmons still didn’t know, that there were whole aspects of the tan skinned man’s life that he wasn’t privy to.

“Simmons.” Grif was talking as if he knew just what Simmons was thinking, as if they were the only two people in the room, “They approached me when I was young.  Desperate.  I—we needed money.  I still help them out from time to time…”

Simmons could only sit there, nodding mutely.

“But I’d never help _hurt_ innocent people.  You know that, right?” Grif’s tone was bordering on panicked, pleading.

“Of course.” The redhead was shocked at how strong his voice was then, of how sure he sounded.

But, Simmons _knew_.  He knew enough about Grif to know he wouldn’t hurt anyone like that, or work for someone he knew did.

“We all know that, Grif.” Kimball stated quietly, cutting into the private moment that had been embarrassingly witnessed by a whole assortment of people just then.

“But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening and you just weren’t aware of it.” Wash stated, looking oddly sympathetic at the idea, “You’d be surprised at what can happen right under your nose.”

Tucker once again said nothing, but he shot the Seas an assessing dark-eyed look all the same.

Grif looked ready to protest again, but seemed to think better of it.  Instead, he nodded his head briefly with mouth turned downward defiantly all the same.  There was so _much_ that Simmons wanted to ask him then, but the Magic User knew it wasn’t the time or place.

It seemed that there was a lot about Grif he still didn’t know.  He wondered if Grif ever felt the same about him.  Subconsciously, his right hand went to the top of his ear to rub the scarred tissue there.

“Regardless of who is behind this, we have a rescue mission to undertake.” Kimball remind everyone, bringing the matter back to the task at hand.

The planning then began in earnest with Grif still refusing to look at anyone as they talked.

*****

They finally came to the conclusion that were two leads to investigate.

Doyle and Kimball would lead an expedition to the crashed airship to search for clues there, while the others would head to a town where there was a troubling rumor brewing about the Insurrection joining forces with Charon.

Hopefully, they would find some clues as to what was really going on in both searches.

Naturally, since their talk at the Guild Hall had originally been meant to be a brief one, Grif wanted to return to Blood Gulch first in order to check up on Kai and grab a few more items.

Simmons suspected that the dark-haired man also wanted to get away from inquisitive eyes, to be with his own thoughts for a while given all that had transpired at the Guild.

If the redhead was being honest with himself, he was just glad that the Orc had still wanted Simmons to come along with him.

When they met up with Volleyball and Palomo again in the town square, Simmons couldn’t help but ask, “Who’s going to throw the Teleportation Orb over at Blood Gulch?”

As far as he knew, Grif hadn’t bothered to contact Kai to let her know to expect their return soon.

“Oh, don’t worry, sir!” Palomo assured him, “We’ve got you covered!”

Before he could say that wasn’t really an answer to his question, Volleyball threw the orb in their direction.

Suddenly, Simmons once more found himself on the ground with a heavy thud ( _seriously, what the fuck!?_ )—wincing as he opened his eyes to red, orange, and gray in his overhead vision and not a typical sunset-soaked sky.  It was a second later that the smell of _smoke_ filled his nostrils and burned his lungs.

It took the pale skinned man another moment to realize that the Grif household in Blood Gulch was _burning_ , and that Kai was nowhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter was hard to read as it was a struggle to actually write. I have a better idea of what I want to have happen in the chapters following this one, but I sort of had to still write this part out in order for any of that to make a lick of sense. O_O;
> 
> At any rate, there were quite a few more character introductions in this chapter, plus a surprising reveal about Grif that will definitely be a major plot point later on in the story. :) Then I ended it on a massive cliffhanger to boot, which I do apologize a bit for. XD
> 
> At any rate, I hope that even with the issues this chapter may have had as I was writing it that it was still an enjoyable read for you. Next chapter there will be more things happening in terms of character interactions and relationship development, so hopefully it will be a fun one! Thank you for taking the time to read this. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Fireworks exploded in the sky above Junior’s head as the young boy laughed in delight, turning his gaze curiously to the side to gauge his father’s reaction.  Of course, his curiosity was met with exuberant clapping and a grin.

“That’s fucking awesome, kiddo!” Lavernius Tucker exclaimed, nodding his head in approval, “You’ve really been practicing, huh?”

“Theta likes seeing the fireworks.” Junior admitted shyly, “North say it’s good to show off if it’s for practice.”

Tucker nodded his head once more, humming appreciatively to himself.  Leave it to a pro like North to turn practicing magic abilities into a game.

“He’s right about that.” Tucker told his son conspiratorially, “Why, I’d never practice my skills if it wasn’t to show-off!”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” A new, yet ultimately familiar, voice said from behind the Beast Folk.

Tucker couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the intrusion into his bonding time with Junior by none other than Washington, the stick-in-the-mud Seas they had officially met earlier at the Guild.

Since their group had some free time before their investigation mission started while both Grif and Simmons were back in Blood Gulch explaining the situation to Kai, Tucker had wanted to spend some of that time in Armonia with his son.  After all, the dark skinned man was heading out on another mission yet again and he had no fucking clue how long this one would last.

He honestly hadn’t expected Washington to leave the Guild Headquarters at around the same time as him, nor had he expected the hella awkward interaction between the blond and North when they had gone outside.

North had simply smiled sadly when Tucker inquired about it afterwards, saying that it was a long, overly-complicated story that Doyle’s bodyguard didn’t want to bother him with.  Tucker sure as hell hadn’t planned on running into the Seas again at the fountain by the town square.

“You know, stalking isn’t exactly a flattering trait, dude.” Tucker said, apparently unable to help himself from giving the guy a hard time.

Sure enough, _that_ caused Washington’s face to turn beet red despite the gray tinge his skin had to it.  Tucker would almost call it “cute.”  In fact, the Guild member had to work really hard at covering up the smirk that getting under the rather serious man’s skin seemed to provoke in him.

“I—I wasn’t…!” Washington began spluttering, “I just happened to be walking by and—!“

“ _Relax_ , dude.  I was just messing with you.” Tucker finally took pity on the poor guy and cut him off, “I know it’s just a small world and all that.”

The blond relaxed somewhat then, “You’re telling me.  To think someone like you would be a Guild member.”

“Uh, I happen to be a damn good one!” Tucker stated proudly.

Junior was watching the exchange curiously, “Is he a friend of yours, Daddy?”

The two men exchanged glances and Tucker shrugged before explaining: “More like a new business associate.”

“Okay!”

That simple answer seemed to satisfy the young Beast Folk’s curiosity as Junior turned to create more fireworks in the air with a wave of his hands.  Washington watched him for a moment, smiling at the carefree innocence of the youth before what he was witnessing fully clicked in his brain.

“Your son is a Magic User too?” The Seas asked, sounding both analytical and surprised.

Tucker nodded his head, “Yeah, his powers manifested pretty early.”

Washington regarded the young boy once more before turning his attention back to Tucker with a look on his face as if he was seeing another side to the feline-like Beast Folk, “Must be tough.” He stated, surprisingly sympathetic.

“Nah, more of a surprise than anything else.” Tucker grinned proudly, “His control is excellent.”

Which was only because Tucker had made sure of it.  It seemed like a natural course of action in order to ensure that Junior didn’t accidentally hurt himself or anyone else.  But, there was no need to bring that up with someone who was just an acquaintance at the moment.

“I can see that.” Washington’s voice was filled with approval.

To Tucker’s surprise, the blond sat down next to him on the bench.  At a close-up glance, the Seas looked completely wore down.

“Dude,” Tucker glanced at him in mild concern, “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine once this mission gets underway.” Washington assured him.

Mission, huh?  Washington talked a lot in military terms, similar to York and North now that Tucker thought about it.

“Can I ask you something personal?” The Beast Folk braved, asking after a minute of contemplation.

Washington seemed surprised by the question, but hesitantly nodded his head regardless.

“I get why Andersmith wants to solve this case and I know the missing pilot is a friend of yours,” Tucker decided to just dive right in, “But is there another reason you want to be so involved in this investigation?”

After all, he _could_ just report the missing persons and leave well enough alone.  If Tucker was being honest with himself, he sort of figured that’s what he would do if he wasn’t a Guild member.  Not that he’d ever been, or wanted to be, put in a similar situation.

Washington paused, staring out at the busy town square and then at the sparks of light Junior was letting stream through the air.  Finally, he let out a sigh: “I’ve heard rumors that another friend of mine might be involved in the disappearances.”

Tucker couldn’t help but wince sympathetically.  Bad enough to have one friend be kidnapped, but to think _another_ was somehow involved?

“Is this the same type of ‘friend’ as North is?” The dark skinned man couldn’t help but ask curiously.

Washington bowed his head, a look of unmasked hurt and hesitation crossing over his features that almost made Tucker want to apologize for prying, when he sighed once more.

“It’s complicated, Tucker.”

Tucker had heard that enough to know it translated roughly to it was none of his business.  He supposed he could respect that.  For the moment, at any rate.

“Well, here’s to hoping we’ll figure things out and rescue your one friend quickly.” Tucker remarked instead.

Washington looked at him for a second, seemingly shocked that the Beast Folk hadn’t pressed the issue.  Then he smiled slightly, and _damn it all_ if Tucker couldn’t help but think that the Seas had a nice smile.

He was able to cover up his return grin rather well thanks to Junior running to them just then.  Both men turned their attention to the child once more as he excitedly showed them a new trick he had learned earlier with Theta’s help.

*****

The former Freelancer shook some flecks of blood from her fist before sitting down at the tavern’s counter, signaling the barkeep for her celebratory drink.

After all, South had _plenty_ to celebrate, especially given how she had just won her eleventh bar fight of the night without so much as breaking a sweat.  Hopefully, a few broken noses would keep the local riffraff from harassing their waitresses again.

South grinned at the free booze coming her way, taking a huge burning swig of the stuff the second it was in front of her.  She loved small towns in the Outer Regions like this one.  She particularly enjoyed their dives.  They were so much more entertaining than what any of the similar places in the Unsc were.

It was almost going to be a shame to have to leave this place when her contract was up.  But she knew getting too comfortable in any one place was a bad idea for a whole slew of reasons.

Case in point: the asshole in blue who just then sat down next to her.

“That looks like a good drink.  Could I try one?” A familiar, not to mention far too friendly and nonchalant, voice asked her.

However, the assessing look in his brown eyes and the fact that the cheerfulness didn’t quite reach their depths gave his true demeanor away.  South made a face and put down her drink, her thirst suddenly slaked.

“Fuck off, Florida.  Or Flowers.  Or whatever the hell it is you’re calling yourself these days.” She said to him emphatically, not bothering to turn her head in his direction, “I told you before that I’m not interested in anything involving Freelancer or the Unsc anymore.”

If Florida was surprised by her less than joyful greeting, he hid it well.  Instead, he smiled all the more cheerily and regarded her with a thoughtful look crossing over his features, “Well, that’s a shame then.  It just so happens I have a job that I think you’d be _perfect_ for.”

There was something in his voice that had her curiosity piqued.  The pale blonde with violet-tipped hair glanced over at Florida, only somewhat surprised to see him smiling at her expectantly.

She smirked right back at him, raising an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He nodded, “If you’re still up for any and all challenges, that is.”

South eased back into her chair then, smirk widening slightly, “I’d _love_ to hear more about it, especially if it is going to include as much skull-bashing as you’re insinuating.”

Florida’s smile widened, and South couldn’t help feeling a bit more eager at the prospect of hearing her old work ally out.

*****

The Grif house was burning.  There was an inferno raging throughout the humble abode, one that was quickly threatening to engulf the surrounding buildings of Blood Gulch.

Richard “Dick” Simmons was distantly aware of people running from the sight in a panic.  He somewhat made note of the firefighters arriving with Water Storage Relics that transported large quantities of water in a seemingly small, inconspicuous way.

However, his eyes remained glued on the fire itself.  His green irises watching the roof that had caved in and the bits of stone, wood, and glass that had fallen to the ground all around them…

 _This can’t be happening.  This can’t be happening!_ His mind repeated over and over again, although it was hard to tell when he had started thinking those thoughts.

_“KAI!”_

He wasn’t sure if Grif had shouted his little sister’s name or not, but Simmons _felt_ the exclamation in his very bones.  The redhead felt a panic and disbelief that was similar to his own but different too.  It nearly seized up his heart.

The Magic User couldn’t _breathe_.  The smoke from the fire was burning his lungs as dread continuously clawed at his throat.

_“Kai could be in there.  She could be hurt or dead or…!”_

As suddenly as those thoughts entered his mind, Simmons grabbed Grif around the waist, knees crashing into the ground as he tried to keep the Orc from racing into the fire.  It was as if he knew that the tan skinned man would try to see if Kai was still inside their home, as if he had heard Grif say as much even though he knew the other man hadn’t spoken a word out loud.

Still, Simmons wasn’t strong enough to stop a fully motivated Orc from moving.  All he did was slow Grif down momentarily, the other man dragging them _both_ closer to the inferno.

“N—no, Grif!” The redhead tried screaming out in-between coughs, “It’s too—!“

Just then, Grif twirled around to glance down at Simmons, the lanky man hugging the Orc’s back while his bloodied knees and shins were dragged along on the village ground.

Something unreadable flashed through the panic in Grif’s eyes as he gazed down at the human, and he opened his mouth to speak when, suddenly, part of the collapsed roof flew past them both—an arc of fire streaming through the air in its wake.

A black-armored figure stood up from amidst the wreckage, clapping their hands together.  Simmons distantly realized that they had _thrown_ the piece of burning roof off of themselves.  It was terrifyingly impressive.

“Kai!” Grif called out, though Simmons knew that the other man recognized that whoever this mysterious figure was it wasn’t his younger sister.

The woman began walking over to the two of them, her black armor turning red as it dissolved from her body completely to reveal pretty simplistic black traveling clothes and a big black star tattoo partially visible on her back.  She was blond, with a sharp look in her brown eyes and a commanding presence.

“She’s not in there, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The blonde informed both Simmons and Grif, looking at their awkward positioning with mild amusement before a reminiscent scowl took hold over her features, “They took her.  Fucking assholes dropped the building on me to keep me from following.”

“W—who…?” Simmons began as the firefighters cautiously approached the burning house as he tried his best to ignore the knot in his stomach that the sight of the destroyed home left in him.

“Charon.  Who else?” The woman in black looked at the redhead as though the answer should have been obvious.

At her answer, Grif stiffened even more within Simmons’ embrace.

“I’m Tex, a reclaiming agent for the Guild.” The woman finally introduced herself, “I was just passing through when the attack happened.”  She informed them as she looked at the two men seriously, “You guys came through a Teleportation Orb, right?  We’re going to have to do a return trip.  Fast.  I need to talk to Kimball right away and you need to get moving on saving the girl.  _Quickly_.”

*****

The trip back to Armonia didn’t take any time at all.  As it turned out, Tex had a Relic Communicator on her, which she stated proudly was a perk of being a reclaiming agent of long standing.

The blonde was able to secure their ride back using a Teleportation Orb more efficiently than Simmons would have thought possible.  Which was a good thing, all things considered, since Grif’s Relic Communicator had been inside the now burned out husk of a house that they used to call “home.”

Truthfully, Simmons was only partially paying attention to what was happening around them.  Instead, most of his focus was placed on his growing concern for Grif as there was an alien wave of panic and disbelief over recent events still intermingling tightly with his own that the Magic User couldn’t quite understand.

Meanwhile, Grif seemed to be in a daze.  The Orc was only moving along at Simmons’ or Tex’s prompting.  Considering how take-charge Grif had been when it came to helping Simmons settle in the Outer Regions, it was more than a bit nerve-wracking for the redhead to behold.

Simmons wished there was something, _anything_ , he could do to help Grif right then.  But, all he could do was make assurances about Kai’s safety that seemed to fall on deaf ears.

So, once more having used a Teleportation Orb and after picking himself up off the floor again ( _seriously, what the hell was the deal with that?_ ), Simmons was startled to see that this time around they had materialized in what appeared to be a large room.

Judging from the décor, it seemed that they were _in_ the Guild Headquarters itself.  Evidently, Tex was not joking around about them needing to get there right away.

“Greetings.” A familiar voice called out, and Simmons was even more surprised to see Delta and York standing in the unfamiliar room.

“Still got a great throwing arm.” York grinned as Tex moved past him, though the brown haired man’s expression turned serious a second later when his good eye got a look at all of their faces, “I take it something really major happened out there if you needed an emergency teleport?” he asked Tex even as the woman was already one foot out the door.

The blonde paused in the doorway as Grif and Simmons caught up to her, “I’ll fill you in as soon as I can, York.” She assured him.

He nodded, glancing over at Delta who hadn’t said anything since greeting them after their arrival, “We’re counting on it.”

With that, the three of them left the two Guild agents and were off walking again.  Even though Simmons had only been in the building two times before, he recognized the way to Kimball’s office almost immediately.

Tex didn’t even knock, she just opened the door and walked into the space as if she owned it.  Both Doyle and Kimball had been sitting at the head of the Guild’s desk, cups of what appeared to be tea before them.

They had been pouring over maps of the areas they would be investigating in the upcoming mission.  Apparently, when they were fixated on a common goal, they could be more than civil to one another without even realizing it.  Their heads were even bent close together as they held a quiet conversation amongst themselves.

Naturally, both Doyle and Kimball pulled apart as if struck the second that they realized that Tex and the two shell-shocked men were in the room with them.  They had a reputation to uphold, after all.

“What happened?” Kimball wasted no time getting down to business, casting a glance at Doyle to make sure he knew who called the shots in her space before resting her gaze expectantly on the trio.

“There was an attack in Blood Gulch.” Tex informed her, “A Magic User was taken.”

Kimball’s eyes immediately went to Grif, understanding flickering over her features, “Your sister?” The Seas asked softly.

Grif let out a shaky breath as he nodded in affirmation, and Simmons couldn’t help it when his heart _ached_ at the sight.

“It was Charon.” Tex spoke up again, “Just like Wash surmised.”

“You know this because…?” Doyle couldn’t help but inquire.

The woman shot him a quick, assessing glance, “Long story.” She finally noted, “Don’t ask.”

“We won’t.” Kimball shot Doyle a pointed look, “Tex’s word is trustworthy.”

For a moment, Doyle looked as though he wanted to argue with the head of the Guild.  But, the blond human wisely kept his mouth shut instead as the Unsc representative nodded his head in understanding, mouth pursed into a thin line.

“In that case,” he finally stated at length, “We should speed up our investigation time.”

“I agree.” Kimball turned to Grif and Simmons, “Gather everyone as quickly as you can and head out immediately.  We’ll be doing the same.”

“Ye—yes, ma’am.” Simmons couldn’t help but awkwardly salute.

Tex nodded her head, moving towards the door, “I’ll go and collect some more helpers.  Might be fun,” she grinned mischievously, “Since I just know they’ll _love_ to see me.  I’ll meet you at the landing site.”

“Understood.  Thank you, Tex.” Kimball noted as the other woman left.

Grif turned to leave the office woodenly, Simmons reaching out and touching his arm to stop him from doing so.  Of course, the redhead then realized he had made things horribly awkward since he was now pondering over what he wanted to say or ask the Orc.

Maybe he should start by asking about how Grif was doing on account of what had happened to Kai and Charon’s supposed involvement.  The pale skinned man opened his mouth to do just that, but the scared, worried look on Grif’s face and in his brown eyes—practically pouring off of his body in _waves_ , made him stop.

Instead, he wanted to just reassure the Orc in whatever way he could.

“We’ll find her, Grif.” Simmons told him, gently squeezing the other’s arm while shocked at how strong and sure his own voice sounded at the statement.

Grif didn’t respond verbally, but there was a light in his eyes for a moment as he stared down at Simmons’ hand on his arm and then up at Simmons’ encouragingly smiling face.

The Magic User was caught off-guard but still oddly touched when the Orc momentarily took his hand in his own and gently squeezed it in response.  Simmons could feel his face turning a bit red at Grif’s gesture, although he wasn’t entirely sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not only do we have some emotional and heavy Grif and Simmons interactions in this chapter on account of Kai getting taken, but we also got our first real interaction between Tucker and Washing too (naturally bonding over how cute Junior is! XD). Oh, and Kimball and Doyle weren’t yelling expletives at one another as well! Progress, possibly? XD
> 
> Anyone care to take a guess as to who Tex might be going off to collect? Some reunions are definitely upcoming! :)
> 
> There were a few more character introductions in this chapter now that the plot is definitely picking up pace. Hopefully, this was an enjoyable chapter to read as I hope that the next one will be too!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this update! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

It was a rather rocky path up to where the airship had been forced to land, making progress on foot rather slow as the traveling party made their way to its location.  North and Theta, along with York and Delta, fell behind Kimball and Doyle as they slowly traversed in order to keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the area. 

The glacial pace probably frustrated those in their group seeking quick answers.  However, it provided North and York with the chance to talk a bit more about current events, with Delta and Theta interjecting their own thoughts into the conversation whenever they felt it was appropriate to do so.

“It was a bit weird seeing Wash again, wasn’t it?” York asked his friend.

After all, they hadn’t seen the younger Freelancer since the project had fallen and Wash had left to go back to his hometown for recovery.

North sighed, “You can say that again, York.” He muttered.

“Health-wise, he appeared to be in much better condition.  If that was a concern for you.” Delta noted.

Theta nodded his head, “Yeah, that’s a good thing!  Isn’t it?”

York smiled, reaching out and ruffling Theta’s black hair playfully as he agreed readily enough: “Course it is, kiddo.”

Delta regarded his partner carefully, “But seeing him was complicated, wasn’t it?” He asked quietly, “Given past circumstances.”

“You really don’t beat around the bush, do you, D?” York sighed before asking.

“Washington must have certainly felt that way too.” North commented, frowning to himself at the recent memory of their meeting, “He could barely even look at us.”

“Yeah, that definitely sucked.” The scarred brown-haired man agreed, also frowning in speculative thought, “I wonder if South would do the same if we ran into her somewhere?”

There was a sudden stony silence that descended upon the four as they walked then.  In the midst of the new tension that had fallen across their traveling party, Theta raced over to the still frowning North.

The former Freelancer was staring straight ahead, so lost in thoughts of families and being left behind that he seemingly wasn’t paying attention to his current surroundings.  The young boy touched the blond’s arm gently, silently asking if he was all right at the mention of his twin sister.

North turned to regard Theta, smiling slightly in reassurance before turning to glance at a somewhat apologetic-looking York before countering his old friend’s question with an emotional punch of his own: “You do know that Tex has probably gone to get Carolina’s assistance for this mission, don’t you?”

With thoughts of a stubborn redhead from their past suddenly lodged in his mind, York couldn’t help but sigh.

*****

The airship that had been attacked wasn’t even large.  In fact, it was primarily used for taking passengers and small amounts of cargo from Point A to Point B.  In the grand scheme of things, the airship never really held anything that would be deemed too dangerous or too valuable by most people.

Someone like Andersmith probably could have said exactly what it was the airship actually contained, but the Guild leader had opted for him to stay behind back at Chorus due to the stress the human appeared to be in regarding his missing ward.

As the downed vessel came into view, Vanessa Kimball almost regretted her decision as the dark-skinned woman was still trying to figure out if the attack had been random, or if it had been planned with this airship specifically in mind.

With the recent attack at Blood Gulch, it definitely seemed likely that Charon was targeting Magic Users.  But, _why_ that was still went well beyond her head.  She did not like how many unknown variables there already were to this case.

When the Guild leader arrived at the scene, Volleyball and Palomo were already there along with Doctor Grey, a Beast Folk with fox-like features.  The two Guild apprentices saluted her as both Kimball and Doyle made their way over to them.

York and the others took up positions that would make guarding Doyle easier should the need arise, though Kimball doubted it was necessary given how only shell-shocked passengers remained in the area waiting for Guild escorts back to town.  She supposed it was true that preparation was always the best course of action, even for unlikely scenarios.

“We got statements from all of the passengers still in the area.” Palomo informed Kimball, voice a bit too cheery and excited for the task at hand.

Volleyball nodded her head in agreement, “Yes, though their statements mesh with Andersmith and Wash’s reports rather well.”

Kimball had expected as much given that the two men had been quite thorough in their own investigations even before reporting to Doyle and, subsequently, the Guild.  Truthfully, their whole expedition out here was probably going to be a gigantic waste of her precious time.

“I did find something interesting in the airship, though!” Doctor Grey exclaimed as if reading the Guild leader’s thoughts.

“Oh?” Doyle looked intrigued by this bit of news.

“Yeah, whoever these guys were that took the Magic Users?” Grey informed them, “They also took the Remnant that powered the airship.”

Doyle and Kimball exchanged a look at the Beast Folk’s statement.  Floating Remnants were quite rare and valuable.  One being missing would definitely explain the forced landing of an airship.

“Are you sure, Doctor Grey?” Kimball asked.

The dark-skinned woman scoffed, red-trimmed ears flicking slightly to the sides of her head, “I’ve seen enough Floating Remnants to recognize when one is missing.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“Looks like more evidence pointing to Charon.” The Seas mumbled in response while avoiding Doyle’s eyes.

Kimball wasn’t sure just yet if she wanted to voice her suspicions loudly enough that the Unsc ambassador in their midst overheard them given that she still didn’t trust him one hundred percent.  She had to remind herself that he had been the one to call for this investigation, so it might be best to act like she was willing to cooperate.

After all, for all her animosity towards them, this particular incident at least seemed to not be a result of the Unsc.  It was becoming more and more apparent that the blame was on Charon, a group that pilfered Remnants and Relics before the Guild or other organizations could get to them.  Keeping that in mind, a missing Remnant certainly raised flags.

“Seems that way.” Doyle murmured before turning to Doctor Grey, “How have you been doing besides that, Emily?”

Before Doctor Grey could respond to the human’s inquiry, Kimball couldn’t help but look at him incredulously, “You mean following the Unsc Empire kicking her out for being both a Beast Folk _and_ a too low-level Magic User?” she asked defensively.

Of all the insensitive things he could ask…and just as the Seas had been trying to give the Unsc ambassador the benefit of the doubt too!

Doyle raised his hands up in surrender, “Miss Kimball, _please_.  I was asking precisely because I was concerned for that very reason.”

Kimball couldn’t help but snort in disbelief, not even deigning to reply with words.

“Not everyone who lives in the Unsc agrees with all of their policies, you know.” He reminded her.

That only served to fuel Kimball’s anger as she countered Doyle’s comment with a question of her own: “Then why don’t they do something about it?”

“Because not everyone can be as brave as you, evidently!”

Doctor Grey nodded her head enthusiastically as the two argued, almost as if this was exactly what she had expected to happen the second the question had left Doyle’s mouth, “I’m doing great, thanks for asking!” she stated happily over the shouting between the two leaders that was now taking place.

Volleyball and Palomo glanced at one another then, no doubt hoping that the other investigation team was making better progress than they currently were.

*****

The Remnants that had been collected recently in some ruins by the Insurrection were brought to the storage facility without incident.  C.T. watched the door close with an impassive expression on her face.  While it might have been deemed boring by thrill seekers, the brunette was grateful to have been on that last particular recovery mission.  It certainly left a better taste in her mouth than many of the other assignments that Charon had been passing around to the Insurrection lately were.

As a matter of fact, a team from one of those missions had just returned while she was getting things sorted from her outing.

“Put her in one of the holding cells.” A familiarly accented voice ordered, though C.T. made sure not to turn around and look his way until many of the multiple footsteps she overheard had left the area.

Honestly?  It was always preferable to the former Freelancer to not have to see whichever poor soul the mercenaries had targeted this time.

“Ah!  C.T.!” Wyoming greeted her jovially, as if they were meeting in the training hall back in Valhalla instead of in the center of a mercenary stronghold, “It’s been too long, my dear.”

“I’ll say.” The brown-armored fighter remarked back, “I was surprised to hear you had joined the mercenaries.”

“I _would_ say it was a surprise to find out that you had cast your lot with the Insurrection, but we both know I’d be lying…wouldn’t we?” The former Freelancer countered her just as quickly.

C.T. held back on taking the bait, not wanting to talk about just how much of her past activities the mustached man had been aware of even back then, instead looking around the area for his familiar shadow, “Where’s Gamma?”

After all, the last time she had seen them both, the two had been inseparable.  Now, however, it seemed as if the dark-haired young man was nowhere to be found.

“He’s seeing to the accommodations for one of our guests.” Wyoming informed her, “You’ll see him soon enough.  No worries.  We’ve both had to make some hard decisions in order to survive.”

The brunette noted an odd tinge of regret in Wyoming’s voice that didn’t quite fit with his usual past outlook regarding any decisions he made.  She couldn’t help but wonder at the hidden meaning behind his words just then, and could even feel one of her eyebrows raise up in inquiry.

Of course, due to her combative nature she asked: “…You mean like aiding in kidnapping?”

The brown-haired man nodded, “It’s a bit more distasteful than a clean kill, yes.  But, you get used to it when the paycheck comes.”

C.T. glanced in the direction of the holding cells, somehow doubting that.  She let out a sigh, “The Insurrection would never have been involved in something like this before.”

Things had changed so much since _his_ death…

“You of all people should know that things change, my dear.” Wyoming told her in a sage-like voice, “Best to adapt with them.”

The brunette pondered over his words, a frown settling over her features.  It wasn’t that there wasn’t any truth to what her old teammate had said, but…

“Oh, I ran into our old friend Tex while I was out.” The white-armored mercenary informed her, nodding at the recollection, “Had to drop a roof on her to keep the conversation civil.”

C.T.’s eyes widened at the name.  She was about to inquire further as to what had happened, or if he had seen or heard from anyone else from their Freelancer days, when Locus approached the two of them silently.  She started, not sure when the steel and green-armored man had snuck up on them. 

Considering her own capabilities with stealth, that was saying something.

“We are going to need both of your help on a voluntary recruitment run.” Locus told them without preamble, before turning and leaving just as quickly.

C.T. sighed, “At least he said ‘ _voluntary_.’”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t be too thrilled yet if I were you.” Wyoming advised her with a frown on his features, much to C.T.’s surprise.

*****

Having joined with the mercenaries of Charon and working for them for a while now, Antoine Bitters was seriously contemplating his lot in life.

Honestly, it had been decent jobs at first.  Shit like Relic-gathering from ruins, or your standard guard duty for said Relics after the fact.  They were the kind of gigs one would do and never bat an eye at.

He’d needed the money.  His deadbeat parents had left him with a debt that a standard Guild salary or shop clerk job just wouldn’t cover.  Charon’s pay had been very generous at the start, especially for what he had been tasked with doing for them.

But, Charon’s more recent activities, like outright theft and now kidnapping?  They definitely weren’t what he had signed on for.

Only problem was that now Bitters knew too much to be able to just walk away.  He’d either be in a cell himself or dead if someone in Charon so much as _suspected_ he wasn’t completely loyal.  The dark skinned man sighed, wanting to kick himself for being such a gullible ass.

“Hey, Bitters.” One of the other guards had moved towards Bitters while he had been busy contemplating his fucked up predicament, “They want you to guard the holding cells.”

Of course they did.  As if he didn’t need _another_ reminder of how much of a jackass he was for his part in all of this.

“Right.” Bitters moved past the guard and made his way to the lower level of the facility, fashioned rather expertly from some ruins that had been surprisingly intact.

The area often referred to as the holding cells, also called the “ _education chambers_ ” by a man known to most in Charon as only the Counselor, was a depressing place that Bitters hated seeing ever since the first time he had been there.

The Magic Users that Charon collected from all over the Outer Regions were brought here for some time until they were moved who-knows-where-the-hell-else.  Even with as apathetic as he was, Bitters was honestly afraid to find out.  The cells were barred affairs that offered little in the way of privacy, though the space they were in was soundproof.

“ _Asshole!_ ”

…Which was probably a good thing, considering that the second Bitters had opened the door he was hit in the face by a string of colorful profanities.  They were hurled his way by a winged girl who looked to be both part Beast Folk and part Orc, at least if he was judging by the yellow lines on her tan skinned features.

In a cell farther away from the volatile prisoner was a Seas boy who looked only a few years younger than Bitters and the winged girl.  The auburn-haired Seas was curled in on himself, not even acknowledging the guard shift change as the other captive Magic User with him had.

“Hey, don’t fucking ignore me!  I’m talking to you, jerk-ass!” The half Orc girl yelled when she realized that Bitters’ attention had drifted towards the other prisoner instead of her.

Bitters sighed once more, knowing this would be a long shift.  He tried to quench the anger that flared up at the sight of the cells since he knew it indicated guilt.

Running a hand through his multicolored hair, Bitters wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

*****

The ancient ruins of the temple had not very long ago been abandoned by Charon, if the group had in fact ever been there at all.

A report that several eye witnesses from the neighboring village of Peaceful Harbor, named so despite it not being near any bodies of water, had corroborated as they also indicated that some mysterious organization had recently been in the area.

Dust and debris in the temple had been disturbed in several places, so someone had been there at any rate.  There were also signs that there had been quite a few dead Plague Beasts around the exterior of the ruins: blood stains too impossibly large to belong to a human body, along with smashed trees and crushed stone as though large and powerful figures had fallen or been violently attacked in the area.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what the organization had been after here though, especially given the carnage signs outside the temple proper that signified a barrier had been removed.  Plus, there was the lack of the blood red Relics dead Plague Beasts always offered up, as well as the lack of an ancient Elven artifact at the heart of the temple.

Yes, from this evidence it was pretty easy to make an educated guess about what this mysterious group had been doing in the ruins.  The Guild members investigating the temple stood in front of the pedestal where the Relic or Remnant should have been, trying to process the information as best they could.

“Well, my money’s on that they took it for whatever diabolical plans they’re hatching next.” Sarge remarked without preamble.

 “Eso va a ser su contribución a esta conversación? Increíble.”  _{“That’s going to be your contribution to this conversation?  Unbelievable.”}_

Lopez seemed as exasperated as they all felt.  Richard “Dick” Simmons could certainly understand that sentiment given what their party had found.  Or, more accurately, what they had _not_ found.

“It’s definitely gone.” Donut supplied helpfully, “I searched every hole I could find and, believe me, I am an expert on finding things in holes!”

“...Por favor, deja de hablar.”  _{“…Please stop talking.”}_

“They could be after Relics and Remnants for a variety of different reasons.” Washington, who had insisted on coming with the group for this mission, frowned slightly as he no doubt thought of all of the things a group could do with a stockpile of the magical artifacts.

Fighting his growing anxiety, Simmons was doing the opposite of the blond by trying _not_ to think of those things.  For his own sanity it was best if he tried not to imagine a mysterious organization getting their hands on a shitload of Relics and Remnants.  He felt his left hand touching his scarred ear and frowned, forcing it down to his side.  He really shouldn’t give in to his old nervous ticks right now.

Instead, Simmons focused on the growing knots of unease in his stomach.  There were definitely _two_ distinct sets of anxious emotions flooding his system, one of which was bordering on disbelief and panic.  He glanced over at Grif, the Orc having remained strangely silent throughout the whole conversation.

That silence worried the redhead to no end.  Grif hadn’t really recovered from Kai being taken and it seemed that, as the investigation into Charon continued, the chubby man’s mental state was getting worse.  Simmons didn’t like it.  Not one bit.

“Well, at least we know they were definitely in the area.” Tucker said, trying to look on the bright side as the group made their way back towards the temple’s exit.

As the party approached the entranceway, Simmons pulled Grif slightly back and away from the others.  The tan skinned man followed him as if in a daze.

“We’ll…we’ll find her, Grif.” Simmons reassured him again.

“We better.” There was a determined, darkened look in the Orc’s eyes just then before he glanced over the redhead’s shoulder, back at the empty pedestal the group had just left, “It’s definitely them, though.” Grif stated softly.

“Who?” Simmons blinked before he put it together, “Charon?”

A dark-haired nod.  Grif looked downright pained at the admission.

“How can you tell?” The redhead was genuinely curious.

“This whole operation fits their M.O. perfectly.” Grif explained, motioning towards the pedestal once more, “First, you grab the artifacts and dispel the barrier.  Then, you nab as many Relics as you can from the horde of Plague Beasts that come to investigate.  That’s what they always do.”

Simmons realized that Grif knew all of that about Charon because he had gone on missions like this for them all the time in the past.  The maroon-wearing man swallowed nervously at the thought.

“So they’re stocking up.” He concluded.

“Yeah.” Grif nodded his head, “I never really knew for what or why.  Convinced myself it wasn’t worth the effort of caring.  Maybe I just never _wanted_ to find out, so my lazy ass never pried.  But, now I’m guessing it’s for something big.”

No doubt, especially if Charon was even willing to kidnap people who were Magic Users for it.

Simmons knew better than to say that to Grif currently though.  The chubby man looked so pained again.  Simmons opened his mouth, wanting to say something, _anything_ , to maybe comfort the Orc just a little…

“Hey, guys!” Tucker’s voice called over to them, “If you’re done with your pillow talk now, we’re going to the inn.”

“C—coming!” For some reason, Simmons’ face turned red at the teasing along with Grif’s own, though the Orc raised his middle finger to Tucker in response.

Simmons was just about to turn to rejoin the group when Grif reached out and squeezed his shoulder, as if seeking more reassurance for himself through the act.  The orange-wearing man’s hand lingered and, when the redhead turned to face him questioningly, Simmons was both surprised and rather relieved to see Grif having a determined look gracing his features.

“We _are_ going to find her, Simmons.” Grif told him, “But, before then, there’s something I need to tell you.  Tonight.”

The urgency in Grif’s tone had Simmons swallowing down any replies he might have had.  Instead, the lankier man nodded mutely in response, wondering what it was that the Orc so desperately wanted to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more character introductions were had in this chapter. More are on the way as the plot slowly develops and picks up momentum! Hmm…a village called Peaceful Harbor, eh? I wonder who might live there? XD
> 
> I hope that this chapter was as enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write! Thank you for taking the time to read this! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The town of Peaceful Harbor reminded Richard “Dick” Simmons a lot of Blood Gulch.  That particular line of thought caused a knot to form slightly in the redhead’s throat as he remembered seeing Blood Gulch several hours earlier, the last time he had been at the debris that had once been the Grif siblings’ home.

Upon closer inspection, Peaceful Harbor was maybe even tinier than Blood Gulch.  Located in the Outer Regions, it was a rustic, small town with a very relaxing atmosphere, especially when compared to the hustle and bustle of a city like Armonia.

Thankfully, there was an inn for weary travelers all the same.  Simmons, despite wanting to continue the search for Kai as quickly as possible, was grateful for the chance to get a good night’s sleep.  After all, he had read a lot of research while in the Unsc about the importance of a solid eight hours of sleep and he was always one for keeping healthy schedules, even if Grif rolled his eyes at Simmons’ time tables.  They were important, damn it!

Besides, Simmons knew that, logically speaking, their traveling party wouldn’t be of much help to Kai if they were all keeling over due to exhaustion.  Plus, he knew it had been a _long_ day for everyone, especially Grif.

His green eyes risked a glance toward the Orc in question.  It was as if Grif was lost deep in thought, simply hanging back while letting Sarge and the others handle the room arrangements.  Simmons supposed he couldn’t blame Grif for being distant.

What with his sister’s kidnapping, Charon’s involvement, and now the evidence that Charon also had a hand in the missing Relics and Remnants situation?  It was only natural that the chubby man would be retreating inward, even though understanding that did nothing to ease the growing sense of anxiety within Simmons himself.

Grif saw the redhead staring at him worriedly and mustered up a half-hearted smirk.  No doubt the gesture was an attempt at reassuring the human who had so inadvertently stumbled into his care.  Simmons tried his hardest to return the gesture as best he could, inner panic taking a backseat for the moment.

“All right, ladies,” Sarge’s booming voice spoke just then, as both he and Tucker turned away from the reception desk, “The rooms are taken care of!”

“Oh, oh!  I hope I get to bunk with Lopez again!” Donut stated gleefully, turning to the artificially constructed man, “We had _so_ much fun last time, didn’t we?”

“Todavía estoy tratando de bloquear la memoria.”  _{“I am still trying to block it from memory.”}_

For some reason, Lopez didn’t seem quite as amused or excited by the prospect as the pink wearing Donut did.  Simmons still couldn’t really understand the “golem” though, so maybe he was just interpreting his body language wrong.

“Of course you are, Donut!” Sarge stated, nodding his gray-haired head, “Understandably, I’ll be getting my own room.”

“Debido a que está predispuesto horrible?”  _{“Because you are horribly biased?”}_

“That’s right, Lopez!  As our leader, Sarge really needs his beauty sleep!” Donut said sagely, although Simmons had to wonder how much of the conversation the dirty blond actually understood.

“...Voy a pasear por la ciudad ahora.” _{“…I am going to wander around town now.”}_

With that statement, the tan-skinned man simply walked out of the building.  The rest of the traveling party turned back towards the red armored Sarge, looking to him for an explanation since he created Lopez.

“Lopez is right about scouting around town for more information.” Sarge said a second afterwards, “I think I’ll do the same.”

“Me too!” Donut said happily, “It will give me a chance to scout around for good breakfast spots too.”

Sarge and Donut both took their leave as well, leaving Tucker with the task of explaining to the others about their room arrangements.  Tucker sighed with the added responsibility, but jumped right in as if he often had to make up for Sarge and company’s erratic ways.

“The two of you are sharing a room.” The Beast Folk informed Simmons and Grif, shrugging, “Naturally.”

There was a bit of a teasing tone in Tucker’s voice at that last part, his tail swishing back and forth playfully.  There was something akin to a knowing look in his brown eyes too that Simmons figured was best to ignore.

“Fine by me.” Grif spoke up just then, glancing over at the redhead questioningly, “What about you, Simmons?”

Given how small the house in Blood Gulch had been, they had pretty much been sharing space already.  Simmons didn’t really see a problem with the situation.  It wasn’t like he and Grif weren’t used to each other already.  Besides, it seemed like Grif would prefer some privacy given how distant he’d been recently.

“Me too.” Simmons informed them, nodding.

The glint in Tucker’s eyes turned somewhat mischievous, and _that_ admittedly made Simmons a bit more hesitant.  However, before he could question the Beast Folk on the matter, Washington coughed slightly.

“This inn doesn’t appear to be too large,” the Seas began, “So, let me guess.  We’re rooming together?”

Tucker sighed at the blond’s question, “Yeah, much as I love my privacy, that’s the short of it.”

Grif snorted, “Still have that sleeping naked habit?  Or the jerking off one?”

If someone could choke on air, the Seas would have probably done so just then.  Washington’s gray and yellow-tinged face took on a spectacularly reddish hue at the Orc’s comment.  Simmons could sympathize as he felt his own pale skin heat up at Grif’s comment as well.

Tucker ignored the reactions the newer members of their group had to Grif’s questions, choosing instead to give his Orc friend the finger, “I try not to do that on Guild missions anymore, dude.”

“ _T—try?_ ” Washington spluttered, completely flabbergasted by the Beast Folk’s wording.

Grif snickered as Tucker and Washington continued their conversation on what was appropriate clothing regulations and personal activities while on a job before his expression turned serious once more as he regarded the still blushing redhead nearby.  He tapped Simmons’ shoulder to get the taller man’s attention, motioning with his head up the flight of stairs.

“Want to check out our room?” Grif asked Simmons, something unreadable flickering in his brown eyes.

Simmons remembered how, earlier at the temple ruins, the tan-skinned man had informed the redhead that there was something that he needed to tell him.  So, Simmons nodded his head even as the knot in the pit of his stomach came back in full force: “Let’s go.”

*****

Currently, Charon’s base of operations in the Outer Regions were repurposed ruins, located in the very heart of a town simply known as Rat’s Nest.  As far as ruins go, they were in relatively phenomenal condition.

The population of Rat’s Nest tended to turn a blind eye to the actions of their neighbors, especially due to the much needed income that Charon and their assorted allies provided them with.  In fact, most of the town in one way or another were probably employed by the group.

Such was the case for one of the younger guards that C.T. had met earlier, a young man who stood out thanks to the multiple colors his hair sported.  She believed his name was Bitters and the former Freelancer felt a tinge of sympathy towards the rookie.  He clearly had no idea what he had gotten himself involved with.  Based on the angry look she had started noticing in his dark eyes when she caught him going to guard duty, it seemed that Bitters was just now starting to realize the true nature of his employer.  C.T. could relate: the truth always seemed to reveal itself too late.

Charon working in conjunction with local areas was still a little hard of a set-up for her to get used to, given how the Insurrection had gone out of their way to avoid towns.  She supposed one could just chalk it up to different mentalities regarding how groups like Charon and the Insurrection approached residential areas.

If anything, the town of Rat’s Nest appeared to be thriving even without any Guild presence to speak of and even with its proximity near Orc territories.  There was no doubt the economy was doing well because of Charon, so who was she to complain about something that so obviously worked for the locals?

At the moment, C.T. and Wyoming were watching the town itself prepare for what almost looked like a festival.  At least that was how it appeared on the surface to the uninformed, at any rate.  Streamers were being hung everywhere, and stalls were being set-up with the hope of possibly loosening some purses from unsuspecting travelers.

…It was hard to believe that this was actually the first phase of the “recruitment” operation they had been assigned to by Charon.

“A tournament.” C.T. couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “Unbelievable.”

“How so?” Wyoming cast a glance in her direction, sounding genuinely curious.

“I wouldn’t expect that Charon’s idea for recruiting more members would include an actual tournament.” She waved her hand out at the sight in front of them, “First, they sanction _kidnapping_ of all things…and now _this_?”

“Hmm.” The white-armored man glanced around disinterestedly, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’d wager it won’t be legal.”

But, still!  A tournament just seemed so _ordinary_ for a group that did so many things that C.T. personally disagreed with.  She bit her lip, choosing to remain silent on the subject.  Which, naturally, prompted her former Freelancer teammate to fill the void.

“A competition in which only the strongest reach the top.” Wyoming stated, “Sounds awfully familiar, don’t you think?”

C.T. started at his question, turning her full attention onto the older man, “Are you saying it’s going to be how Freelancer was?” she asked him.

A ranking program to determine who actually could remain, with no consideration to what happened to those who participated.  With a group like Charon sponsoring the whole thing…

She shuddered, not bothering to wait for his response: “Poor bastards.”

“Yes, well, no skin off our backs as it were.” Wyoming nodded, “So I’d just sit back and enjoy the show.”

Not wanting to dwell on the unsettling topic any longer than necessary, C.T. looked around for a familiar head of black hair, “I still haven’t seen Gamma yet.” She stated conversationally.

“Oh, he’s around.  He’s just not the social sort.” Wyoming scratched his mustache, a contemplative look crossing his features, “He takes after his _brother_ in that department.”

For not the first time since leaving Freelancer, C.T. wondered what Leonard Church was up to now.  If there was any kindness in the world, hopefully he and the other remaining Fragments were just as free to choose their own paths as Gamma currently was.

“You and your shark friend still getting along rather well?” Wyoming asked her.

C.T. snorted, “I’d hardly call him a friend.”

Sharkface, like all the other Insurrection members, had always only ever reluctantly accepted her presence amongst them at their leader’s insistence.  Nowadays, the scarred brown-haired man had been keeping to himself, accepting more tasks from Charon than C.T. herself was comfortable doing.  She honestly had no idea where he was now.

“Hmm.  Looks like we might be the closest things you have to friends here currently.” Wyoming mused, most likely referring to himself and Gamma just then.

C.T. couldn’t help but sigh at the truthfulness in the mustached man’s statement, “Looks like it.”

There were a few moments of silence, then: “Want to hear a knock-knock joke?”

“…Not particularly.”

*****

The sunlight streaming through the clouds in the sky, while a welcome change of pace from the darkness of the tunnels they had been in moments ago, was blinding after being underground for so long.

Leonard Church hissed somewhat, his eyes squeezing shut involuntarily.  The humming noise coming from behind him, however, he couldn’t block out as easily.  The satchel at his side was heavy, so he forced his teary eyes open to focus on it instead.

…Not a bad haul, all things considered.  They had managed to nab several Relics that would no doubt be useful to the Guild, even if Church was somewhat disappointed that they hadn’t found a Remnant in this particular vein of the Dwarven mines.

Naturally, Carolina had already adjusted to the brightness of the outside world and was already checking over their gear.  Her adaptability was truly terrifying sometimes.

“Should we head to an inn for the night?” The redhead asked over her shoulder to her companions.

The annoying humming that had been coming from behind Church stopped, “Oh, we can have a sleepover!” Caboose exclaimed excitedly, “They are so much fun!  Aren’t they, Freckles?”

“AFFIRMATIVE, CABOOSE.” The talking gun stated emphatically, and Church had the sudden mental image of Caboose propping Freckles up on a pillow to play Truth or Dare.

He shuddered at the thought, “Shouldn’t we drop Caboose off in the next town we stop at since we’ll be leaving Dwarven territory?”

“Aw, you can’t leave yet!” Caboose exclaimed with a childlike wail, “I want my sister to meet my bestest friend!”

“EXCUSE ME?” If a gun could huff in indignation, Freckles just did.

“Second bestest friend.” The dwarf corrected.

“BETTER.”

Before Carolina could put her two cents in about what they would be doing next, there was movement in the brush right in front of them.

“I’m afraid whatever plans you have are going to be cancelled.” A familiar female voice stated.

Carolina stiffened and Church paled considerably at the sight of the black-clad figure that emerged from the nearby foliage.  Caboose looked between the two siblings, thoroughly confused by the reactions of his friends to the newcomer in their midst.  It was as if a ghost had just emerged from their pasts.

Guild business was probably the only reason for _Tex_ of all people to be all the way out here in Dwarven territory.  It would have to be _big_ business to boot.  Which usually meant a whole lot of pains in the ass when all was said and done.

Church sighed, the satchel on his shoulder suddenly becoming unbearably heavy as that realization sunk in, “Aw, damn it.” he muttered under his breath.

Tex’s smirk only widened at Church’s comment.

*****

Simmons couldn’t help but pause in the doorway of their shared room at the Peaceful Harbor inn, his mind going in several different directions all at once.

Grif noticed his unease, casting a glance back in the red-haired Magic User’s direction, “Everything okay?” he asked.

Simmons blinked, not sure _how_ Grif wasn’t having the same reaction he was having.  “Are you sure this is our room?” he asked incredulously.

A nod, the Orc still looking confused as to the reason for Simmons’ hold-up.

“But, there’s only one bed!” Simmons tried pointing out the obvious, gesturing towards the offending furniture as if he could somehow make it spilt into two by sheer willpower alone.

Grif glanced at the bed he was currently sitting on, patting the mattress as he did so, “Your observational skills are as sharp as ever, Simmons.” He teased.

“How…?  Why…?” Simmons was finding it hard to form a coherent sentence just then.  Did the Orc not just get the implications here?  His brain was about to break!

The chubby man shrugged apathetically, “It’s just Tucker’s way of playing a prank on us.” Grif informed him, “Though joke’s on him because I can sleep in any situation.”

Of course the lazy fat-ass would say that.  The orange-wearing Guild member’s ability to sleep anywhere and at any time would almost be impressive in any other scenario.  Simmons stared at the bed, his face heating up.

“What about you?” Grif asked him, looking oddly serious for a moment.

“Huh?” Simmons blinked, not sure of what the Orc meant by the question.

“Think you can stick with it for one night just to tell Tucker to fuck off tomorrow?” Grif asked, a lazy-but-maniacal smirk crossing over his face.

Through sheer force of willpower, Simmons managed to get the heat down on his face as he swallowed nervously and finally nodded his head, “Y—yeah.  Definitely.”

“Good.” Grif nodded to himself, looking rather pleased with Simmons’ answer.

As Simmons cautiously stepped into their shared inn room then, he felt a sharp note of pain coming from his knees.  The Magic User winced, having momentarily forgotten about how his knees had gotten scraped up pretty badly earlier.  It definitely sucked that with his sorry-as-fuck magic ability he couldn’t even heal himself.

The pained expression wasn’t lost on Grif, who frowned as he regarded the redhead, “Your knees?” He asked.

Simmons nodded, not trusting his voice to not go into squeaky mode at the moment.

“Come here.”

Grif was rummaging through a bag he had brought with him and had thrown to the side of the mattress upon entering the room, motioning for Simmons to sit on the large bed next to him.  Simmons did so, and Grif procured a bottle of what looked like ointment.

Without any warning, the tan-skinned man was pulling the legs of Simmons’ trousers up to expose his injured knees and began slathering the cold cream onto the redhead’s scrapes and cuts.  Simmons shivered at the cold sensation flooding over his wounds just then, his face turning red and heart speeding up at Grif’s warm and oddly gentle touch.

“This shit works really quickly on cuts.  I used to use it on myself and Kai all the time when we were younger.” Grif said in way of explanation a moment later.

“Th—thanks, Grif.” Simmons smiled slightly, grateful for being the object of someone’s attention and care.

“Well, it’s _my_ fault you got hurt in the first place.” Grif finished and almost reluctantly pulled his hands away, not able to look Simmons in the face, “…Sorry.”

“You were upset, Grif.  There’s no need to apologize.” He tried reassuring the Orc, feeling a sudden foreign pang of distant guilt that he recognized wasn’t his own.

“Yeah, but getting you hurt too isn’t going to get Kai back any quicker.”

“Neither would have running into a burning building that she wasn’t even in.” Simmons pointed out.

“Yeah,” Grif sighed tiredly, “I know, I know.  You’re right and you know how much I hate that.  Thanks, Simmons.”

Simmons couldn’t help but smirk, “Hey, so long as we’re both there to watch each other’s backs, right?” When Grif nodded, the pale man added, “We’re going to find Kai, Grif.”

The dark-haired man nodded again, “Yeah, we are.”  There was a moment of contemplative silence before Grif spoke up again, “Did you know that I got my power at a fucking ridiculously young age?”

Simmons shook his head.  He hadn’t known that at all.  Even though he felt very connected to the Orc, Simmons realized that they hadn’t known each other for very long.  There were many things he needed, _wanted_ to know about Grif.  Simmons wondered if Grif felt the same about him as his right hand wandered to the tip of one of his scarred ears.

“Well, I did.  It was pretty tough getting powers that young, not going to lie.  Dealing with that shit.” The tan-skinned man continued as if he hadn’t noticed Simmons’ subconscious nervous twitch, smiling ruefully, “Kind of hard to control something like an explosive touch when you’re a little kid.”

“I can imagine.” Simmons was rather glad, for once, that his power had been a relatively harmless one that had developed in his teens, as was usually the case for most Magic Users.

“I’d heard about groups kidnapping Magic Users back then.” Grif recalled, “Those stories always scared Mom the most.”

Simmons remained silent, not sure of where Grif was going with this and afraid that pressing him might get the Guild member to stop talking entirely even though the curiosity was killing him.

“Anyways, when I was approached by Charon, they offered me help in training my abilities and jobs to boot!  I was so fucking relieved,” Grif continued, letting out a bitterly apathetic laugh, “And now look at what’s happened.”

Simmons just barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch the slightly older man’s shoulder then, “You couldn’t have known, Grif.”

“Sure, I could have.  If I’d bothered paying attention to all the fucking talk about them.  I was too busy thinking I was a fucking rebel or maverick or some shit.”

Grif’s voice sounded _pained_ just then, and Simmons could practically feel the hurt radiating off of him in waves.  He bit his lip and, surprising both himself and Grif, pulled the tan-skinned Orc into a hug.

“It’ll be okay, Grif.” Simmons mumbled against the chubbier man’s shoulder.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Grif following the motion and then the dark-haired man was returning the gesture tightly, to the point where Simmons nearly couldn’t breathe.  But, the relief that was seeping into Simmons’ bones just then made him smile despite the oddness of that particular sensation.  He was his typical “so nervous that he wanted to puke” self, but Simmons felt something else underneath the surface that was hard to describe.

“I’ve been feeling odd lately.” He finally murmured after a few seconds of contemplating if he should mention the sensation to Grif or not given how strange it seemed, “Like I’m feeling _more_.  But…but it’s only around you.”

His musings caught ahold of Grif’s ears, and the Orc hummed knowingly at Simmons’ comment, “Yeah?  That’s probably an effect of the Linking Magic.”

“Oh.” For a moment, Simmons felt at ease and like everything was peaceful now that there was an explanation out in the open.  That is, until he realized that sense of peace wasn’t his.  In that exact moment, the words Grif had spoken actually sunk in.

He pulled away from the hug, wide-eyed as the all too familiar panic attack came back in full-force, “ _The Linking_ _what_?!?” Simmons knew his voice had reached his high-pitched stressed squeal, but he couldn’t even bring himself to feel self-conscious about that at the moment.

With the Magic User’s change of tone, Grif seemed to remember just then what it was he had _meant_ to tell Simmons, the Orc smiling sheepishly at the bewildered human, “…Oops?”

*****

Lavernius Tucker _definitely_ did not want to head on up to his room yet given how loud Grif and Simmons’ voices were drifting down to the inn’s lower level.  Tucker shook his head, having an idea as to what brought this particular fight on.  Grif must have finally grown a pair and fessed up to the Linking Magic.  Simmons must have reacted exactly as Tucker bet he would.  Grif owed him some money…that is, if his friend managed to survive a full-on bitch fight with Simmons.

Tucker heard a high-pitched squeal that definitely belonged to a panicking redhead, and guessed that his Beast Folk hearing wasn’t doing him any favors right now.  Shit, they fucking argued like an old married couple already.  It would be cute if it wasn’t currently annoying the hell out of him.  No way in hell was Tucker getting caught up in this particular lovers’ spat.  So, he wisely remained in the small lobby of the inn, nursing a drink instead.

Someone familiar sat down next to him seconds later.  The Beast Folk couldn’t help but glance over at Washington in amusement, the Seas looking as lost as ever when it came to what to do with his free time.

It was oddly cute, in its own way.  But, that still didn’t mean that Tucker _wasn’t_ going to have some fun at the older man’s expense all the same.

“Sitting with me _again_?” Tucker spoke up, “Not that I can really blame you.  I mean, come on!” He gestured to himself with a growing smirk on his face.

Naturally, the other man’s face turned red and he spluttered once more, “I…I wasn’t, I mean—!“ Washington began before cutting himself off in embarrassment.

“Uh-huh.  Sure.” Tucker nodded his head, grinning, “You are _so_ not making this any easier on yourself, dude.”

The blond sighed, “You’re impossible.”

“Apparently you love that about me.” Tucker shot back.

Washington sighed and closed his gray eyes, looking as though he were counting to ten mentally.  With that action, the Beast Folk found that he missed looking into the former Freelancer’s pupils, noting that they were a few shades lighter than the gray of his skin.

Perhaps that was why Tucker took pity on Washington by stopping the teasing.  He would hate to make the whole “roomies” thing awkward.  After all, Grif and Simmons were probably going to be taking that “awkward” award for a long while at the rate they were going and Tucker wasn’t looking to compete with them anytime soon.  Besides, for reasons that were still largely unknown to him, the dark-skinned man found himself actually _enjoying_ the sullen Seas’ company.

Tucker decided to take the conversation in a more serious direction just then with a question that he had been curious about for a while now, ever since Washington had said he wanted to travel with the Guild members to Peaceful Harbor.  He felt the condensation around the glass he was holding on his skin.

“So, since this part of the mission turned out to be one fucking huge bust,” Tucker began, “What are your plans now?”

“My plans?” Washington echoed, opening his eyes to regard Tucker carefully.

A nod followed by a question: “Yeah.  Are you going to be staying with us, or what?”

Truthfully, an inexplicable part of Tucker was hoping that the answer would be _“yes_. _”_

Washington frowned in contemplation, “I honestly hadn’t given it much thought.” He admitted to the Beast Folk sitting next to him, “I—“

But, whatever the blond had been about to say was cut off by the inn’s door opening wildly and Donut literally skipping through the doorway.  Tucker noted that the younger Guild member’s hand was tightly gripping onto the arm of a purple-wearing human who, oddly enough, had a ring of flowers around his brown head of hair.

“Hey, guys!” Donut caught sight of the two men almost immediately, the smile on his face only matched in brightness by the one on the stranger’s face as he brought the bespectacled stranger to a stop right in front of Tucker and Washington’s table, “This here is Doc!  He has some information about you-know-who that might help us!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if any of you guessed that Doc would be at Peaceful Harbor, you were right! XD
> 
> Now Simmons finally knows about the Linking Magic between him and Grif, so we will have to see what will happen between the two of them next! :) As well as see how the “recruitment tournament” Charon is throwing will enter into the mix.
> 
> Thank you very much for taking the time to read this chapter! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

There was stunned silence at the inn’s table following Donut’s declaration, with Washington and Tucker simply staring in disbelief at the pink-wearing man and the newcomer he had hurriedly brought with him.

“No fucking way.” Tucker finally let out in a rush of air and, while David Washington would have probably worded his disbelief a bit more politely, he was inclined to agree with the Beast Folk’s sentiment.

Frank “Doc” DuFresne, as the purple-wearing Peaceful Harbor resident had introduced himself in the silence that had followed Donut’s initial statement, seemed rather unassuming.  Admittedly, the brown-haired human seemed an unlikely source of information, especially information about a group of shadowy individuals.  The nervous yet polite way Doc held himself while under their scrutiny, along with the rather ridiculous crown of flowers atop his head, did not help ease that impression.

Yet, truthfully, Doc did not wither under Tucker’s comment as easily as one might suspect he would if he had been lying.  Instead, he straightened himself up slightly under the duo’s continued scrutiny, “I know I’m not the most likely source, but I’m telling the truth!”

“I believe him.” Donut stated emphatically a second after, stamping a pink-booted foot on the ground for added emphasis, “Come on, guys!  Just hear him out, okay?”

Tucker and Wash both looked at each other then, Tucker shrugging in response to the unasked question in the blond’s gray eyes.  Given that their group had no leads at the moment, what did they have to lose by simply listening to what Doc had to say?

Washington turned his gaze back towards the standing Doc and Donut, the Seas slowly nodding his head in the brown-haired man’s direction to prompt Doc to continue, “You said you have information that could help us?”

“Possibly.  I don’t want to get your hopes up though.  It could be nothing.” Doc stated rather hesitantly as he and Donut sat down with the Seas and Beast Folk, “In fact, I kind of hope it is.”

“I doubt Donut would have dragged you back here if he thought it was nothing.” Washington assured him.

“Yeah, man.  We’ll take any lead we can get at this point.” Tucker chimed in, although his laidback stance indicated he wasn’t particularly banking on Doc’s information given Donut’s love of gossipy rumors.

Donut nodded his dirty blond head emphatically, “It’s okay, Doc.  Just tell them what you told me.  They’ll love it!” He said reassuringly.

Doc stared at Donut for a moment, his cheeks going red.  Tucker and Washington again exchanged a quick glance as, a second later, the newcomer started his story.

“A few days before you and your friends came here, another group of travelers passed through.” Doc informed them, frowning slightly at the memory, “They weren’t exactly the most pleasant bunch, but I remember them because they only seemed interested in the temple nearby.”

The temple that now had either a missing Remnant or Relic.  Washington looked over to Tucker then, noting that the dark-skinned Beast Folk was now listening attentively to what the purple-wearing man had to say.

“They didn’t stay very long.  I only caught wind of their conversations because they bought some healing items from me.” Doc stated, “I’m a medic, or…something like it, at any rate.”  There was an almost downcast expression on his face at, but the brown-haired man carried on with his recollection before anyone could question his wording, “Apparently, their group is having something of a recruitment drive in a town called Rat’s Nest soon.  They didn’t go into much detail, but it’s going to be a tournament of some kind.  I didn’t ask anymore because, as a pacifist, I’m against violence.”

“A tournament?” Washington repeated incredulously, finding it hard to wrap his head around the prospect.

“Seas don’t have them?” Tucker asked Washington curiously, “They’re challenges to test one’s strength against others, plus everyone gets to see who comes out on top.  That shit is fucking hardcore, but the chicks really dig it.”

“I’m aware of what tournaments are, Tucker.” Wash frowned slightly.

No, more than anything he was more caught off-guard by how Doc’s words reminded him a bit too much of his time in Valhalla.  He did not like being reminded of that particular facet of his past anymore.  It was one of the main reasons why he couldn’t have been more relieved to see that Delta, Theta, North, and York were all right and working for the Guild now.  Even if his extremely closed off personality made it hard for others to decipher that he actually was happy.

Tucker gave the blond a pointed look just then but, instead of saying anything to Washington, the dark-skinned man turned his attention towards Doc.  The “medic” was waiting patiently for the Seas and Beast Kin’s private aside to conclude.

“That’s actually a pretty good lead.” Tucker told him, grinning appreciatively, “Thanks, dude.”

Doc smiled, “I’m happy to help.”

Donut was positively beaming, “See?  I told you that Doc had an awesome lead!  Now we just have to keep ramming through no matter how tight a spot we’re in!”

There was a long, awkward silence following Donut’s colorful imagery.  The quiet was finally broken by Tucker coughing awkwardly, “Yeah, well, now we just need to find out where exactly Rat’s Nest is.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Washington blinked in surprise, caught off-guard by how serious Tucker was being.  Maybe there was more to the rather carefree Beast Folk than he first thought?

“Oh, I can help with that too!” Doc exclaimed suddenly, “After that group left, a kind older gentleman told me where I could find Rat’s Nest.  Since I’m a healer, I figured it might be a good idea to travel there for the tournament.”

“Really?” Tucker’s eyes lit up and his tail swished back and forth in a way that Wash couldn’t help but think of as cute even though he was kind of annoyed by himself for it, “That’s fucking awesome!”

“We can all go there together!” Donut chimed in happily, “Oh, that will be so much fun!  Don’t you think, Doc?”

Doc was staring at Donut with a sort of awestruck look on his face.  It even seemed to take him a few moments to actually process what the dirty blond had said.  Once Doc realized what Donut was indicating he blushed even more, a smile on his face as he nodded his head.

Washington raised a blond eyebrow at the scene but said nothing.  It wasn’t really his place to say anything about someone’s obvious crush, especially when Donut seemed pretty oblivious to it.

“Come on!  Let’s go find Sarge and Lopez to tell them the great news!” Donut stated enthusiastically, grabbing Doc’s hand in the process, “I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

The two men were a blur of purple and pink as they exited the inn, Tucker shaking his head slightly in their wake.  “Looks like we should be hitting the hay early then.” He noted, “Sarge will definitely want to be getting up at the ass crack of dawn now.”

Wash nodded his head in agreement.  He couldn’t blame the older adventurer for being so dedicated.  It made sense considering that the earlier they reported this new development and lead to Kimball, the better off they would be in starting the next phase of their rescue mission.

Eager to see if he could also get some rest beforehand in his room, the blond stood up along with Tucker when he remembered something and paused.  …It wasn’t _just_ his room now, was it?  It was _their_ room. He glanced over at Tucker, who was currently stretching out stiff limbs.

Tucker glanced over at the Seas then, evidently noticing how awkwardly quiet he had gotten, “Dude, everything okay?  What are you thinking so fucking intensely about?” He asked, raising a black eyebrow in inquiry, “I can practically see your stress.  Do you ever chill out?”

“About…about what you and Grif said earlier about your, um, _sleeping_ habits?” Wash winced at how high-pitched his voice had gotten.

“What, you mean about me sleeping naked or jerking off?” Tucker asked him, completely unabashed.

Washington gulped, face turning red as he nodded.  He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

“Don’t worry.  I don’t do that stuff while sharing rooms,” Tucker informed him, “Anymore.”

“Any—anymore?” Wash choked out in disbelief.

Tucker nodded, thankfully not elaborating any further for Wash’s brain’s sake.  He instead raised an eyebrow again at the squirming former Freelancer, a note of challenge in his voice, “Don’t tell me that Mr. Big Badass is _afraid_?”

His tail was swishing back and forth mischievously, and Washington had to force himself to look away from it.  Which, unfortunately, took his vision directly towards Tucker’s smirking face.

“Of course not!” Wash stated at length, eyes shining defiantly.

“Better prove it then.” Tucker shot back with a grin.

Washington growled at that in annoyance, stomping past Tucker towards their joint room while steadfastly ignoring how warm his face felt.

*****

Tex filled Leonard Church and Carolina in on what had happened while they had been Remnant hunting out in the Dwarven territories with Caboose.  She did so without preamble, wasting no time in getting down to the crux of the matter.

It seemed that several kidnappings of registered Magic Users had occurred while they had been on their own mission, including a prominent case involving an attack on an airship.  Kimball was bringing in more Guild members to help resolve the issue, which was where they came in.

“Wyoming and Gamma are with the kidnappers too.” Tex told the siblings as she concluded her summary of events, “Dropped a burning building on me in Blood Gulch.”

Church couldn’t help but take a closer look at his on-and-off-and-on-again girlfriend, “Shit.  I guess you’re okay since you’re fucking here and all?”

The blonde flashed him a smirk, “Aw, were you worried about little old me?  How sweet.” She mocked, “But I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Church.”

…Never mind.  He should have known by now even a simple matter such as a building dropping on top of her wouldn’t stop Tex.

He was about to shoot out a fucking awesome comeback to her sarcasm when Carolina decided to step into the conversation.  Caboose was choosing to remain mostly silent for once, the Dwarf clearly at a loss as to what was going on.  Church did keep hearing “ _scary lady_ ” muttered under the blond’s breath though.

“So, whoever they are, they’re well-funded and prepared then.” Carolina noted tersely, still not the most comfortable around Tex due to past events.  It was why the two women had agreed to work on opposite sides of the Outer Regions when becoming Remnant Hunters for the Guild.

Tex nodded, “We need to meet up with the others.  Now.”

Before Carolina and Church could so much as say another word, Tex was throwing a Teleportation Orb into the space between them.  One second they were standing just outside of an ancient Dwarven mining tunnel, and the next they were on a hilly, mountainous region with the massive form of a downed airship in the background.

From nearby, Caboose let out a surprised gasp and Church wondered just how often the Dwarf had used Teleportation Orbs.

Carolina blinked at the sight before them, “Is that…?”

Tex nodded, eyes narrowing, “The airship.  Yeah.”

Church, meanwhile, was getting up from the ground with a groan ( _he always hated those fucking orbs!_ ), “Damn it, Tex!  Next time fucking warn someone before doing that!”

“But where’d the fun be in that?” She joked with a smirk on her face that creeped into her voice.

Church promptly gave her the finger, which Tex responded to by blowing a kiss in his direction.  _Bitch_.  The woman was infuriating in every way possible.  Which was probably why he couldn’t get enough of her.

North was approaching them now, with Theta and Delta in tow, “Sorry for the rough landing.”

…Well, that explained who threw the Teleportation Orb on this side of the world then.

“North, it’s good to see you.” Carolina greeted the purple-armored man with a nod before turning her attention to Delta and Theta, “You too.”

“Greetings, Agent Carolina.” Delta stated politely as he turned to Church, “Greetings, Alpha.”

“H—hello.” Theta shyly hid behind the much taller North.

Church made a face at Delta, “I’ve told you before, Delta.  Enough with the ‘Alpha’ bullshit.”  He really didn’t need that constant reminder of how fucked up his life in the Unsc had been.

His “brother” blinked, nodding his head slightly in understanding, “My apologies, Church.”

Carolina glanced around the open space, “I take it that York is guarding Doyle and Kimball?” She asked.

North and Delta both looked at one another before nodding.  Both seemed hesitant to vocalize an answer.  They probably remembered Carolina’s not-so-pleasant personality quirks and were scared shitless of the possibility that the redhead might not like their reply.  They had good survival instincts, Church would give them that.

“Yeah, we figured at least one of us should stay behind.” North stated at length.

“So he volunteered.” Carolina surmised, sounding not at all surprised.

It made sense that York would try to avoid seeing Carolina for as long as possible given the argument that had occurred the last time they had met.  But, even still, seeing the flickering momentary glimpse of _hurt_ that crossed over Carolina’s features just then?  Well, Church wanted to kick the brown-haired man in the shins.

Thankfully, however, his sister was a fucking trooper.  She was back to business not a moment later, standing straight with her usual professional air about her.  Her green eyes narrowed in thought, directed towards the airship.

“So, we should—“ Carolina began, but was suddenly cut off by a loud exclamation from behind them.

“Hey!”  Caboose, clutching Freckles tightly to him with one hand, was pointing to the downed airship with the other.  His blue eyes were large and wide as he asked: “What’s my sister’s ship doing here?”

*****

Katie Jensen and Four Seven Niner were brought down to a lower level of the fortress ruins.  No one was even willing to look in their direction as they walked through the town to get there.  The two women were now in what appeared to be a holding area.

It was a dungeon, Jensen realized, her stomach doing flips as the two were brought past occupied cells.  One of the cells had a Beast Folk girl with wings and the markings of an Orc on her tan skin, the other contained a trembling Seas boy.

“In you go.” One of the guards roughly shoved her inside a cell and, out of the corner of her brown eyes, she saw their kidnappers doing the same to the Dwarven airship pilot.

The guards’ heavy footsteps retreated following the cell doors slamming shut.  Jensen shuddered slightly at the locking noise after them.

Now they were at least left all alone with the other two captive Magic Users.  Jensen glanced at the auburn-haired boy in the cell across from her own.  He seemed to be a withdrawn wreck, curled in upon himself and rocking back and forth.

In a way, the sight reminded her of when she had been a little kid just after her parents had died.  Back when Andersmith had been the only person who ever attempted talking to her.  He had been the only one who really even tried coaxing her out of her shell.

The brunette swallowed nervously, putting her hands on the bars in front of her, “My name’s Katie Jensen.” She called out into the gloom of the dungeon, “What’s yours?”

The boy remained silent, pulling himself into an even tighter ball.  Jensen’s heart went out to him.

“You can just call me Niner.” Four Seven Niner chimed in, grinning conspiratorially at the tan, freckle-faced girl.

Jensen smiled at her gratefully, not trusting her voice at the moment because of the emotions that threatened to boil over.

“My name’s Kai.” The girl with wings and Orc markings spoke up next, pressing her body close to the door of her cell.  She nodded in the direction of the boy, “I don’t know his name yet.”

Which meant that the poor Seas had likely been a wreck since they had brought him in.  Jensen didn’t know a lot about Seas, but she did know that they tended to live isolated lives in small villages by the ocean or other large bodies of water.  It was no wonder he was so terrified now.  This dungeon was a long way from his home, although the same could no doubt be said for all of them.

“I—I’m sure the Guild or someone else is looking for us.” Jensen finally tried to state reassuringly, cursing how her lisp made her voice sound more hesitant than she intended it to.

“Well, that’s all well and good,” Kai noted, crossing her arms over her chest, “But I say fuck it to just sitting around and waiting to be rescued.  We need to figure out a way to get out of here ourselves.  I’m done with these bitches!”

Niner whistled approvingly, “I like the way you think.” The Dwarf stated, smirking.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons felt like his brain was _very_ close to exploding right then and there in the tiny inn room.  He stared at Grif, his mouth suddenly dry as he swallowed and tried forming a coherent sentence.  He needed to put into words exactly what he felt about the situation, but language skills seemed to have abandoned him.

“I… _what_?” Simmons started oh-so-articulately, “ _How_?”  Yeah, he was failing pretty spectacularly at the “putting how he felt into words” thing.

He must have been going into louder decimals than he realized, because Grif winced and put a steadying hand on his shoulder, “Easy there, Simmons.  Not so loud, okay?”

Simmons _snarled_ at how infuriatingly _calm_ Grif was being over the whole thing.  It wasn’t fucking fair, damn it!  The Orc’s laidback attitude was now seriously pissing him off.

The redhead remembered the calming exercises that Filss had taught him back in Valhalla when he had been stressed and panicked over his father exiling him to the Magic Division.  Simmons used a breathing one now, counting backwards from ten.  It worked well enough that he allowed Grif to sit him back down on the edge of the bed.

It kept his voice steady enough to finally let out one question in particular, “…How long have you known about it?” Simmons was honestly surprised at how _calm_ his voice sounded just then.

The Orc seemed a little taken back by that too as Grif swallowed nervously, his eyes flitting back and forth from Simmons’ assessing face.  Simmons tried to focus on Grif’s brown eyes and not his orange Orc markings as his facial muscles twitched frantically, hoping that the eye contact might steady his racing thoughts.

“Ever since I took you from Valhalla.” Grif finally admitted, oddly sheepish.

“ _What_?” Simmons was on his feet again, desperately needing to pace, “Why…why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because at first you didn’t seem aware of it, and you were already adjusting to a lot of shit!” Grif tried defending himself rather lamely, “I didn’t want you freaking out over it.”

“Well, a good job you did of that!” Simmons shot back.

Grif stared at the ground then, looking for all the world like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  Simmons sighed, it wasn’t fucking fair of the fat-ass to look that miserable when he was supposed to be berating him for lack of insight.

“So you partially didn’t say anything because you’re lazy.” The pale-skinned human sighed, “Nothing new there.”

Grif looked particularly stricken then, a wave of something desperate surging through Simmons at the same time that had nothing to do with the redhead’s own anxiety, “That’s not—!“ Grif cut himself off a second later, becoming the picture of nonchalance as he nodded his head, “Guess you got me there, Simmons.”

Simmons frowned, wondering if Grif wasn’t covering something up.  The chubby man had way more experience with this kind of shit than he did, so…

But, as if sensing (which he probably did) that Simmons was about to question him further, Grif started talking again,: “Linking Magic is supposedly very powerful, so when you were exposed to the barrier…”

“It basically short circuited it.” Simmons couldn’t help but conclude on his own.

Grif nodded, rubbing the back of his head, “That’s what I figure it did.”

“But how?” Simmons sat down again on the edge of the bed, still trying to process this turn of events, “How did we even get linked in the first place?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue.” Grif admitted with his own sigh, sitting down next to Simmons, “Linking Magic is one of the most ancient lost Magics around.” He grinned, “Maybe you have more Elven blood in you than you thought.”

Simmons frowned, “Not funny, Grif.” He mumbled, reaching subconsciously for the scars on his ears.

He could still hear his mother screaming, could still hear the gasps coming from Church and Carolina when they had found him covered in blood and crying while holding a knife.  At least after that, his father never complained about his ears being too “pointed” again.  Though, in hindsight, that was probably the first clue that Simmons would grow up to be a Magic User.

“Sorry.” Grif said, the subconscious motion of Simmons not at all lost on him.

Simmons saw Grif frowning and staring at his slender fingers and ears.  The Orc’s own fingers twitched as if he was fighting the urge to do something with them.

“At any rate,” Grif coughed awkwardly to cover it up, “It _did_ happen somehow.”

Simmons frowned and nodded.  No point in denying that now.  Not when, if he concentrated enough, he could _sense_ an “otherness” amongst his own turmoil of emotions.

“I guess in hindsight, I _probably_ should have told you sooner.”

Simmons raised a red eyebrow, “You think?” he muttered sarcastically.

“So I’m sorry.  I guess.” Grif acted like Simmons hadn’t spoken just then, obviously wanting to apologize before he lost the desire to.

Simmons frowned, knowing how hard it was for the Orc to apologize for anything.  He could practically sense the remorse radiating off of him in waves, although he had a feeling that was mostly due to the Linking Magic given the chubby man’s outwardly apathetic appearance.

The redhead sighed, feeling oddly calm somehow now that he had let out his anxiety and panic earlier, “It’s—it’s fine, Grif.” He assured him, “I mean, it’s _not_ fine-fine, but it’s okay.”

Grif said nothing, choosing to shoot the Magic User human an incredulous look instead.

Simmons sighed once more, “I’ve been holding back on things too.”

The confession caught Grif off-guard, his dark eyes narrowing, “Like…?”  There was an almost desperate quality to the Orc’s tone, and Simmons wondered why that was.

The maroon-wearing man looked down at his hands resting in his lap, “My father is a pretty influential figure in the Unsc.” He admitted at length, “But I never told you that because it didn’t seem to matter much.  He didn’t exactly _like_ having a Magic User for a son.” Simmons laughed, but it was a hollow and hurt-sounding one, “I doubt…I doubt he put any effort into finding me.”

He was more than just a tad surprised to find Grif leaning over him then, squeezing both of his hands in his own as he nearly bumped their foreheads together, “His loss, then.” The tan-skinned man murmured, voice oddly quiet.

Simmons felt his face heat up at their proximity, and he had to turn his head away from Grif’s intense stare, “Y—yeah.”

Grif sighed and reluctantly dropped Simmons’ hands, pulling back to sit a few centimeters away from the lankier human, “So we both kept shit from one another.” He muttered, “That doesn’t change the issue with the Linking Magic.”

Simmons blinked green eyes at the comment, “What do you mean?”

Grif shrugged, “Well, now that you know about the Linking Magic, how do you want to deal with it?” He asked, “I’m sure we could find a way to sever it in some ruins somewhere.  Ancient shit and all that crap.”

There was something almost akin to regret tugging at Simmons just then.  He was surprised to note that it was coming not just from Grif, which was a surprise in and of itself, but from himself as well.

Simmons frowned in thought, “Let’s focus on rescuing Kai first.” He told Grif, “We’ve been connected this long.  I doubt staying so a bit longer will hurt anything.”

Suddenly a wave of relief washed over him just then.  The sensation matched the surprising look of odd eagerness that currently suffused Grif’s features.

The Orc smiled gratefully, “Sounds like a plan.” He stated, an indescribable emotion crossing over his features, “Thanks, Simmons.”

Simmons merely nodded, having to look away from the Orc once more.  Suddenly he was reminded of how tiny this inn’s room was, and how awkward sharing it could be.

Grif yawned and stretched before climbing onto the bed, lying down with enough force that Simmons nearly toppled on top of him, “I don’t know about you, but all this talking has made me pretty fucking tired.”

Simmons straightened himself and rolled his eyes, “You’re always tired, fat-ass.”

“And I don’t get nearly enough sleep as it is, kiss-ass.” Grif cracked an eye open and patted the empty space next to him on the mattress, “Now, come on.  Let’s get some sleep before Sarge wakes us up at some horribly early hour, like anything before the afternoon.”

Simmons blushed at the notion of sharing a bed with Grif, but he also stubbornly remembered the challenge that Grif had given him earlier on that very subject (fuck Tucker’s practical jokes!).  So, the redhead hesitatingly crawled onto the mattress, lying with his back to Grif.  His heart was thudding loudly in his chest and he hoped that the Orc lying next to him didn’t feel or hear it.

There was a comfortable quiet that settled over the room for a few moments, and Simmons had started to think that maybe his roommate had fallen asleep.  His mind was going far too fast for sleep to grasp him yet.

Right when he was expecting to hear Grif’s snores, the chubby man suddenly spoke up tentatively: “Hey, Simmons?”

“Y—yeah?” Simmons replied, afraid that his face would start to overheat soon with the realization of how close Grif’s voice had been.

“If I have to be stuck with someone like this, I’m glad it’s you.” The Orc’s voice was barely a whisper when he said it, but given their close proximity the human definitely heard it clearly.

Simmons felt his heart skip a beat, an odd feeling that he wasn’t quite sure how to describe swelling in his chest, “Me too.” He stated shyly before the room fell into silence once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I’m focused a lot on _Just Drive_ this month because it is my NaNoWriMo project, I definitely wanted to at least update this fic once in November so that those reading it know I’m not abandoning it! I will also be updating _When We Were Soldiers_ at least once this month too. Once this month and NaNo are over, I’ll hopefully be back to updating _Remnants_ (and all of my other fics) more frequently!
> 
> Hopefully everyone liked the way things played out in this chapter. I had fun writing it, particularly the banter between Grif and Simmons as well as Tucker and Wash! :)
> 
> Just for future reference, Doc’s flower crown is not only a fashion statement of his in this Fantasy AU, but it is also tied into his magic ability (which I will be getting into later!). :)
> 
> Thank you very much for taking the time to read this chapter! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The Guild’s little traveling party of Donut, Sarge, Grif, Simmons, and Lopez had fallen quiet while listening to the purple-wearing newcomer’s retelling of the information that he had overheard earlier.  All of their eyes were on Frank “Doc” DuFresne as he finished talking, the rest of the Peaceful Harbor inn fading away into the background as they convened.

“So, you’re saying this newfangled information is accurate then?  It ain’t no trap?” Sarge asked into the midst of the group, clearly suspicious.

Doc opened his mouth to respond to the older man, but Franklin Delano Donut beat him to the punch. 

“Come on, Sarge!” The dirty blond stated exuberantly with hands on his hips, “Does Doc _look_ like the type of person who would lie?”

Sarge made a noncommittal noise, but decided not to verbally argue the point further.

Donut flashed Doc a reassuring grin.  The bespectacled man returned the gesture with a brief smile of his own, his face going slightly red at the attention that the pink-wearing Magic User was throwing his way.

Dexter Grif witnessed the exchange and sighed, realizing he needed a hell of a fucking lot more drinks if he was going to have to deal with this bullshit.  Never mind that it was way too early in the morning to be up, let alone to be having a group meeting to discuss their next course of action.

The Orc seriously hated his life sometimes.  But, if this information could help pin down where Kai and the others were, he’d be all for it.  …Not that he wouldn’t bitch about it all the same, of course.

“We’re definitely going back to Kimball and Doyle with this information, right?” Grif couldn’t help asking at the thought of his still missing sister.

From nearby, Simmons glanced Grif’s way at the surprising urgency in the chubby man’s tone before turning his attention back to the others.

Sarge scoffed at Grif’s question, “Way ahead of you, numb-nuts.” He informed the orange-wearing man testily, “Tucker’s already arranging transportation back to Armonia as we speak.”

Grif couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, glad that was already being taken care of.  When he looked up again, it was to Simmons smiling at him in reassurance.  The tan-skinned man couldn’t help but return the human’s gesture in kind before remembering not to do too much to injure his lazy reputation.

“I’ll be coming along too,” Doc noted eagerly just then, “Since I’m the one that overheard the information.  Plus, I’m also registered at the Guild!”

“Uh-huh.  What are the odds.” Grif was only partially listening to what the man in the flower crown was saying now, having decided that at this point in the conversation he didn’t need to exert more than the bare minimum of energy and concentration.

“That’s great, Doc!” Donut exclaimed just as Lavernius Tucker and Washington joined the group, “The more the merrier, I always say!”

“Y aún no has tenido razón.”  _{“And you haven’t been right yet.”}_

“Lopez is right!  Even if there are tight spaces, we can squeeze in if we work together!”

“...Voy a dejar de hablar ahora.”  _{“…I’m going to stop talking now.”}_

“Hey,” Tucker cut in following Lopez’s mysterious aside, his feline ears twitching ever so slightly atop his head, “Just got in touch with York.  We can go in about five minutes.”

Sarge nodded his head in affirmation, “Excellent.  Let’s get this show on the road then.”

Tucker and Washington both nodded their heads in agreement, tough the dark-skinned Beast Folk couldn’t help but turn to Grif and Simmons just then with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Did you guys sleep well?” he couldn’t help but tease, the shit-eating grin evident in his voice.

Simmons’ face turned red at the reminder of their shared bed situation, though Grif was nonplussed by the whole thing.  Truthfully, the orange-wearing man had slept rather well.  He wouldn’t even mention how good it had felt to wake up draped around a still sleeping redhead.

So, instead, like the true maverick he was, Grif countered Tucker’s question with one of his own, “…Did you?”

Simmons shot the Orc a grateful look, and he half-assed shrugged back in response.

There was a brief pause after the heavy-set man’s question in which both Tucker and Washington glanced at each other.  Both of their faces were curiously red.

Tucker’s cat ears even drooped, “It—it was fine, dude.” He finally stated, before adding slightly under his breath, “If someone could keep his hands to himself…”

The Seas’ face was a tomato hue after picking up on what Tucker had just muttered, “I—I couldn’t…!  I mean, I didn’t—!“

Grif and Simmons both exchanged a curious glance at the blond’s anxiety attack.

Simmons bravely stepped forward then, obviously feeling a tinge of sympathy for Washington, “Any…anyways, we should get going, right?”

Both Washington and Tucker seemed immensely relieved by the save, nodding way more exuberantly than was necessary.

“Right you are, Simmons!” Sarge said in agreement as Grif rolled his eyes at the huge smile that lit up Simmons’ face at the praise ( _…kiss-ass!_ ), “Let’s skedaddle while the going’s good!”

*****

It was unusually quiet as Leonard Church’s group made their way back to Armonia, the only noise other than the nature around them being the low whispered conversation going on between North and Theta.  Church had a feeling that his “brother” and North actually wanted to engage in customary small talk, but they both must have wisely sensed that now wasn’t the best time.

Truthfully, Church wasn’t exactly used to this level of silence given that he and Carolina had spent the last few days traveling with Michael J. Caboose.

So, even if he had often prayed for quiet in those torturous travels, the dark-haired man was surprised by how fucking _uneasy_ it was making him feel currently.  Not to mention _annoyed_.  Though, if he was truly being honest with himself, Church was always annoyed by something or other.

It wasn’t as if he expected _a lot_ of conversation from his sister or Tex since they were currently in their patented “ _fixed on the mission at hand_ ” modes and trudging a little farther up ahead from the rest of the party.

No, it was the absolute and utterly uncharacteristic silence of _Caboose_ that had Church annoyed at present.  And maybe, just _maybe_ , if he was being honest with himself, it had him a bit worried too.

Caboose was usually _always_ trying to talk everyone’s ears off, especially Church’s.  Often at the worst possible times too.  …Which, again, in Church’s case was pretty much _all_ the time.

But, ever since they had arrived at the downed airship and had discovered that Caboose’s older sister was its missing pilot, the younger Dwarf had fallen completely silent.

Church was so used to Caboose being normally oblivious and carefree when it came to the situations going on around them that this turn of events was more than just a little mildly disturbing to him. 

Anything that was mildly disturbing to Church kind of pissed him the hell off.

The cobalt-wearing man was _this_ fucking close to whipping around to the blond in what would no doubt have been an awe-inspiring (yet humble) attempt at saying something semi-encouraging when three figures appeared on the path up ahead, evidently waiting for them.

Church sighed in grateful relief at the newcomers since, if he was honest with himself, trying to say something positive would probably turn out to be more painful in the long run than a normal conversation with Caboose was.

It didn’t take Church long to recognize the eagerly enthusiastic Guild trainees, Volleyball and Palomo, who were already saluting.  The older human who was with them, however, was a complete stranger.

“Welcome back, sirs and madams!” Palomo greeted them far too cheerfully the second they were within earshot, Church recalling just then how annoying his Guild friend Tucker claimed the younger man was.

“Were you sent to escort us back to the city?” North inquired after a friendly wave himself, perplexed by the notion.

Palomo shook his dark-haired head, “Nah, we just happened to run into you here.” The younger man said in way of explanation.

Volleyball nodded in agreement, “York and Delta are up ahead, getting ready to bring a group back.”

Carolina stiffened slightly at the mention of York’s name.  It was subtle, but Church, Tex, and North all noticed the redhead’s action.

“And Andersmith here asked to come along on our patrol because he wanted to take his mind off of things.” Palomo motioned to the older, dark-haired man standing close by them.

“We still have no word on where Jensen and the others are being held.” The newcomer, apparently named Andersmith, started without preamble, worried lines etched heavily across his face.

Ah.  So, he must be a friend or something of one of the Magic Users who had been abducted.  That probably meant he’d be tagging along on Guild business until this matter was solved.

Church was thoroughly surprised when understanding seemed to seep into Caboose’s blue eyes, the blond stepping forward to pat the obviously distressed Andersmith on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Smith!” Caboose told the older man with a surprising amount of cheery conviction, “My big sis is missing too, but she’s tough!  They’ll be okay if they’re together.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the dark-haired man’s stunned silence in response to Caboose’s declaration.

But, then Andersmith blinked and a teary smile crossed over his features before he fucking _saluted_ Caboose, clearly touched by his words.

“Thank you for your kindness, sir!” He stated emphatically, “I will do my best to keep my chin up, just like you are!”

“Chin-ups are hard.” Caboose muttered under his breath, as Church openly gaped at the totally random exchange.

His attention was quickly turned around, however, by Carolina and Tex moving a little ways off to the side of the group.

“I take it something happened between you and York while I was away?” Tex asked the other woman casually enough, though there was an assessing look in her brown eyes all the same.

Carolina seemed to pick up on what Tex was getting at as her green eyes narrowed, “It won’t affect our working together, if that’s what you’re implying.”

The blonde snorted, “I’d assume as much.” Tex stated before looking oddly sympathetic, “Relationships can be complicated.”

Now it was the redhead’s turn to snort derisively, “Says the woman who is currently… _what_?” She inquired, “In or out of a relationship with my brother at this time?”

Tex smirked, actually looking _contemplative_ for a moment, “Let’s see.  What week is it now?”

“Hey!” Church had heard about enough of that shit, stomping over to where the women were standing angrily.

Tex’s grin had him responding by giving her the finger.

Carolina’s look as she watched the exchange was an amused one, and Church realized that Tex had probably done all of that on _purpose_.  He couldn’t help but smirk at the notion.

“I’ll leave you two to figure it out.” Carolina stated a moment later, “I’ll go on ahead.”

With that, his sister was gone, her super speed leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

“You know,” Tex began, placing a finger to her lips in thought, “I think we’re on a break right now.”

Church rolled his eyes, noting the teasing tone in her voice, “Shut up, bitch.”

“Takes one to know one, Church.”

They were both smiling then, no true venom behind their words.

*****

Kaikaina Grif wasn’t used to waiting.  In fact, it fucking _sucked_.  But she knew that, until they figured some way out of this mess, she’d have to _try_ to be patient.

Like when you were _really_ close, but someone was being a fucking tease and…

With that thought, she could almost hear her brother’s exclamation of _“Goddamn it, Kai!”_ in her head and sighed.

None of the other captives in the cells nearby were currently talking, but there was still a shit-ton of noise that was seeping into the holding cells from the rest of the Asshole Compound and beyond.  It was enough to get her both curious _and_ agitated all at once.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” The half-Orc, half-Beast Folk finally demanded, jumping into a standing position with her wings fluttering behind her.

She _hated_ being locked up without enough room to move around in to fly freely.  There was only about two meters between her head and the ceiling.  The other three prisoners in the cells around her did not say anything in response to her question, not that she had expected them to do so since they were all in the same boat.

The human girl, Katie Jensen, and Dwarf lady, Four Seven Niner, both listened intently to the noise as well, though the Seas boy remained in a tight ball on the floor of his captive space.

“There is preparation going on for a tournament to gain more recruits.” An unfamiliar, feminine voice spoke up in response to the yellow-wearing girl’s question from the doorway of the dungeon area.

Kai glanced that way sharply, surprised at the sight of a woman standing there.

The newcomer seemed to have been _carved_ out of shiny diamond.  She moved away from the doorway, standing before the cells in an oddly subservient manner.

“My name is Filss.” The stranger stated before Kai or one of the others could ask who the fuck she was, “I am here to help make your stay with us as comfortable as possible.”

Kai couldn’t help but snort, “Nice going so far, lady.”

“Huh.” The Dwarf woman, Niner, spoke up at around the same time to also address Filss, “You don’t seem too happy about your job.”

Kai glanced over at Filss again, noting that the tan-skinned woman’s assumption seemed right on the nose.  From her posture down to her fake smile, there was something about the diamond lady’s very body language that just screamed “ _reluctance_.”

Filss bowed her head even more, stony tendrils of hair refusing to budge at the motion, “You are correct.  But I can’t—“

“Filss.  That is more than enough.” A dark-skinned man with an unnervingly calm edge to his voice appeared in the doorway just then, accompanied by the jackass guard in tan and orange from before.

Filss bowed her head again, looking stricken at the reprimand, “Yes, Counselor.”

The man, obviously a big shot of some kind, gazed amongst the occupants of the cells.  There was a slight smile on his face that definitely did not reach his eyes.  This Counselor guy was beyond creepy, and for a second Kai’s mouth froze shut.

“You should be used to your new accommodations by now.” He spoke in that same eerily placating manner once more, “This situation will be much easier if you just accept it.”

Niner snorted at that, and Kai was pretty sure she had a new fucking hero.  The Counselor’s gaze flickered to the Dwarf given her outburst before coming to land solely on the seemingly catatonic Seas boy.

“This one still hasn’t eaten or drank anything, has he?” He mused out loud, more to himself than to anyone else.  Finally, he motioned to the young guard standing nearby, “Bring him.”

There was an explosion of outbursts following this announcement as the guard with multi-colored hair opened the cell door to comply.  Jensen and Niner’s protests swallowed up Kai’s, “Leave him the fuck alone, assholes!”

…But, they may as well all have fallen on deaf ears for all the good they did.

The guard pulled the unresisting auburn-haired boy along the dungeon’s hallway, the mysterious Counselor following close behind.  A dread silence fell over the space in their wake.

Filss glanced at the three remaining female prisoners before heading to the door herself, “I’ll go and check on them.  Do what I can to help.” She stated quietly as if in reassurance before disappearing from view as well.

Kai sighed and sat down in her cell once more, a horrible feeling sinking lower and lower in her gut.  They definitely needed to figure out how to get the fuck out of here.  Fucking fast.

*****

“…Whoops!” York’s voice said from somewhere nearby, sounding more amused than it ought to be, “ _That_ is definitely not supposed to happen.”

“Your assumption is indeed correct, York.” Delta’s voice added into the mix wryly.

Using the Teleportation Orbs, or “ _Future Cubes_ ” as Grif liked to call them, to get back to Armonia and the Guild Headquarters worked like a charm.  Except for one thing: Richard “Dick” Simmons was on the ground again flat on his back, head hurting as though he had hit it on the floor behind him.

Unlike the other times when this had happened, there was a distinct and heavy weight on top of the redhead that was nearly cutting off his breath.

“What in holy hell tarnation?” Sarge began from somewhere farther away, “This is no time to be taking a nap, dirt-bag!”

Yet, despite that comment, the dark eyes that were looking into Simmons’ own were very much wide awake.  Albeit a bit dream-lidded, it seemed.

“Eso es incómodo.”  _{“That’s awkward.”}_

Next to Lopez, Donut squealed, “Aww!  Should we turn away, guys?” He asked in far too joyous a voice for Simmons’ liking.

Of course, it would be _Grif_ of all people to land on top of him.

Of course, it was Grif’s lips hovering mere centimeters from his own, the Orc’s stinky breath still smelling of his fucking nasty breakfast wafting down warmly onto Simmons’ face.

“Does this happen often?” Doc inquired of Donut, in what was no doubt a stage whisper.  _Fuck them all!_

“Well…!” the dirty blond began, and Simmons’ brain scrambled to get his mouth to catch up as Donut’s voice hummingly trailed off.

It was hard to yell “ _Get off of me, fat-ass!”_ though, especially with the odd, dual feelings of surprising _contentment_ currently flooding his system.  Why the hell was the chubby man so happy to be in this predicament?!?

For that matter, why was Simmons?

A familiarly personal sense of panic creeped in as Simmons admitted that Grif’s weight, once the chubby man had shifted somewhat, was oddly comfortable resting on top of him.  It brought to mind how surprisingly pleasant last night’s sleep had been before Simmons had freaked out over finding Grif’s warm body draped over him like a heavy blanket.

Just like this morning, Grif evidently seemed to not mind their compromisingly awkward position now either.  In fact, the Orc almost looked as though he was about to take a nap then and there, his tan-skinned face drifting closer to Simmons’ own as he did so…

Tucker, from where he was standing next to Washington close by, chose that opportunity to whistle, “Whoa, looks like you two could use another room!” he joked.

Grif blinked, opening his mouth to no doubt tell Tucker to go fuck off, when running footsteps suddenly came to a halt right near the group.

Simmons felt his face heat up even more at the thought of _someone else_ now seeing his current predicament, and he turned green eyes to the side to get a better look at who it was who had so quickly stumbled onto the scene.

The sight of equally green eyes widening in shock in a surprisingly familiar face gave him pause.

It took him no more than a few seconds to recognize that he was staring at his cousin.

Carolina’s shaky voice spoke up a second later, his relative looking just as shocked to see him, “ _Simmons_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Something tells me that Carolina will totally misinterpret the situation, lol. XD
> 
> Oh, and what happened between Tucker and Wash in the room will definitely be brought up in a future chapter at some point! :)
> 
> Next up: cousin reunions, awkward relationship moments all over the place, and we will find out what happened with poor Matthews too.
> 
> I am trying to focus my attention on all of my stories. In fact, _Just Drive_ only has a few more chapters before it is completed, yay! So, I just want everyone to know that I have no intention of not finishing any of them. I am here to the end, no matter how long that might take! :)
> 
> Of course, my brain hates me and now I have another story idea trying to worm its way out (Grimmons, Tuckington, and everything of course! :D). Gah, I am a glutton for punishment! XD
> 
> As always, thank you very much for taking the time to read this chapter! :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

No stranger to witnessing out of the ordinary events, the shock that had momentarily flickered across Carolina’s face dissipated as the redhead took in the current situation.

…Mainly she was glaring at the chubby Orc who was currently draped over her cousin and staring back at her, equally surprised by the human’s sudden appearance.  Carolina’s green eyes hardened as she clenched her fists at her sides.

“ _You._ ” And just from the slightest inclination of her head it was obvious that she was addressing Grif, “You have five seconds to get off of my cousin, or else I break _all_ of your fingers.”

Grif blinked, gaping down at the currently way past beet red-faced Richard “Dick” Simmons still pinned beneath him, “ _Cousin?_ ”

“Huh.” Sarge mused out loud, “Wonder which side of the family she comes from.”

“Oh, oh!  We can take a crack at my genealogy charts!” Franklin Delano Donut exclaimed happily, “They’re super fun!”

“¿Es eso realmente lo que debemos centrarnos en ahora?”  _{“Is that really what we should be focused on now?”}_

“Donut and Lopez are right!” The flower crown-wearing Frank “Doc” DuFresne added gleefully despite what sounded like a sigh of frustration from Lopez, “That does sound like a better plan than violence!”

“Five.” Carolina was deadly serious, and Simmons could only imagine what the current situation must look like to her.

“Gee, I don’t know.” Lavernius Tucker tried lightening the situation in his own special way, “It kind of looks like your cousin’s into it.”

“ _Four_.”

“Tucker!” Washington looked as though he wanted to slam his blond head against something hard, “Don’t make things worse.”

“Grif!” Simmons wheezed out in the meanwhile, shoving up at the tan-skinned body straddling him desperately, “Get off me, fat-ass!”

With both disappointment and fear looming over his features, Grif finally complied.  The lanky human could feel the other’s reluctance as if it was his own, and suddenly found himself missing the Orc’s heavy warmth.  Still, Simmons let out a visible sigh of relief as Carolina seemed to relax.  At least he wouldn’t be needing to use his healing powers just yet.

Carolina turned her head again in surprise, this time a reaction towards Washington, “Didn’t expect to see you here, Wash.”

“Hold up.” Tucker glanced between her, Washington, and Simmons all at once, “How many people does the new hot chick know?”

“I’d say quite a few.” York cut in just then from the Guild Headquarters’ entrance, “Isn’t that right, Carolina?”

There was something in the scarred man’s tone that caused the red-haired woman to frown, though she ignored York at the moment to look over the gray and yellow-tinged Seas, “Niner?’ Carolina asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

Washington nodded, “She _was_ one of the few I kept in contact with.”

Tucker was watching the exchange with particular interest, frowning at everything that was clearly not being said.  Not that Simmons blamed him.  The Freelancers were on a whole other level.  The lanky redhead was tempted to try and convince Grif to duck out while no one was paying attention, just to avoid any more awkward moments.

Carolina, however, had other plans by this point in the meeting as she turned her attention back to her cousin.  “And _you_.” She exclaimed, causing him to flinch awkwardly, “Let me get a look at you.”

Simmons was shocked when, a second later, he was enveloped in a warm hug.

“How did you even get away?” Carolina murmured as she pulled away from the redhead, checking him over as if for any visible signs of injury, “Last we’d heard, you had been sent to the Magic Division in Valhalla.”

Simmons caught Grif’s eye, the motion not lost on his now frowning cousin, “It’s a…long story.” He began, before a thought crossed his mind, “But what are you doing here?”

“Long story.”

Just as Simmons was about to ask for more information, he spotted a figure racing towards them.  When he reached the Guild Headquarters’ room their party was currently holed up in, the somewhat familiar and out of shape man in cobalt travelling clothes bent over to catch his breath.  With hands on his knees and sweat pouring down the sides of his dark-colored head, the newcomer’s blue eyes were focused solely on the floor and not much else.

Leonard Church was practically wheezing by the time he caught up to his sister, “Fuck, Carolina.  Why did _speed_ have to be your ability?”

“Church.” Carolina’s voice caused the goateed man to glance up.

His eyes widened when they landed on his cousin, who sheepishly waved at him in anxious greeting: “No fucking way.  _Simmons_?”

“Hey, Church,” Simmons laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his freckled head, “I guess we all have some catching up to do, huh?”

Simmons’ cousin couldn’t help but snort in reply, “No shit.”

*****

Antoine Bitters wasn’t sure _what_ was going to happen as he followed Aiden Price down a long, winding corridor away from the dungeon.  The guard in orange-tinted armor gripped the arm of the Seas boy tightly to keep him from tripping on the stone flooring beneath their feet.

Whatever they were walking towards though, he doubted it could be anything _good_.  Bitters tried schooling the frown that was no doubt about to cover his features into a more practiced, neutral expression at the thought.

Bitters wasn’t sure whether or not it had worked when Price suddenly stopped in front of an open doorway.  The entrance had two guards standing in attendance, so Bitters thought it was safe to assume that it was their destination.

The Counselor tilted his head slightly, the only gesture he gave that seemed to indicate to Bitters that he should enter the room with the young man in tow.  Bitters did so, trying to be as gentle as he could while ignoring the growing feeling of unease that was currently pooling in his gut.

The room itself was empty and very reminiscent of the cells in the dungeon that they had just left.  The human guard dropped his hand from the auburn-haired Seas, standing at attention to face Price as the older man had entered the room directly after the two of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bitters could see one of the guards at the still open doorway leave.

Meanwhile, Price’s full attention was on the prisoner.  There was a smile that never quite reached his dark eyes on his face as the Counselor stood before the seemingly frozen figure with hands clasped behind his back.

“I understand how difficult this must be for you,” Price started in that same eerily calm voice he always used, “But not eating will simply hurt you more in the long run.”

The boy flinched, his yellow-lined face finally looking upwards.  There was obvious fear in his eyes, and Bitters couldn’t stand looking directly at them.  That damn guilt would creep in if he did.  It pissed him off.

“You’re really very hungry, aren’t you?” Price continued, “Well then, you _must_ eat.”

That very moment was when the guard who had left came back with a tray piled high with food, and he set it down on the floor in front of the Seas.

The auburn-haired Seas’ eyes seemed to glaze over at Price’s words.  The prisoner bent down over the food, ravenously devouring it as though he hadn’t eaten anything in a long, _long_ time.

Bitters took a step back, shocked at the sudden change in the younger man’s demeanor.

Price’s smile only widened at the man with multi-colored hair’s reaction, “Sometimes a gentle push is needed to get someone to do what is best for themselves.” He stated enigmatically.

So, the Counselor was some kind of Magic User too then?  Bitters’ blood ran cold at the thought of what _else_ Price might be capable of.

Price waited a few moments before turning his attention from the still eating prisoner back to Bitters, “See to it that he does not choke or throw up.” He instructed before leaving the space without another word, the other two guards following.

No sooner had their footsteps faded from earshot, then the Seas boy’s eyes returned to normal.  He swallowed nervously on the last bit of food that had been in his mouth, dropping what had been in his hands as though they had burned him.  His face was twisted with horror as he looked down at what he had done.  The Seas looked as though he really _was_ about to throw up.

“Hey.  You okay?”

It was probably the dumbest question he could ask given what had happened, but Bitters honestly wasn’t sure what else to say.

The boy flinched as though he had physically struck him, and Bitters felt even guiltier.  He inwardly grimaced and bent down to be on eye level with the Seas.

“My name’s Bitters.” He told the younger man quietly, gently even, “What’s yours?”

For a moment, he didn’t think that he’d get an answer.  Then the Seas wrapped his arms around his knees and started rocking back and forth as if trying to comfort himself.

“M—Matthews.” The Seas finally muttered, “I want…I want to go home.”

“Obviously.” Bitters couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though he became apologetic a second later, “Sorry.”

Matthews nodded as though he was accepting the apology for _everything_ , and Bitters felt like even more of a jerk than he did before.  …Which was saying something, all things considered.

As Matthews looked down at the remaining food as though he was going to be sick, Bitters sighed, “I’ll tell you what.  How about I get rid of this shit so you don’t have to force yourself to keep eating it?  Deal?”

Matthews looked at him gratefully, a slight smile forming on his face, “Th—thank you, Bitters.”

_Please don’t thank me.  I don’t fucking deserve it._

Instead of saying that out loud, Bitters simply nodded and picked up the tray.  He cast one last glance at the still rocking back-and-forth Matthews before exiting the room with a sigh.

The dark-skinned man was surprised when he almost ran into the diamond woman from before out in the hallway.

Filss was regarding the tray in Bitters’ hands with a knowing look in her clear eyes, “I will bring Matthews back to his normal cell, and I won’t say anything about you disobeying orders.”

Bitters opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately clamped down on whatever it was instead.  He took one last look at the cell, picturing Matthews still in there as the knife of guilt twisted in his stomach even more.

“Thanks.” Bitters muttered to her as he nodded his head before quickly leaving.

*****

The Guild traveling party wanted to give the reunited family an opportunity to catch up before important matters dragged them away, so David Washington was currently waiting a few meters away.

Though, from the Seas’ observations, it was obvious that giving Carolina, Simmons and Church room to talk wasn’t exactly what everyone in their group wanted.  Most of them had agreed with Sarge’s “ _Let’s give them some space_ ” plan, while others seemed to have a harder time of it.

York in particular looked as though he had about a million questions that he wanted to ask every time he so much as glanced in Carolina’s direction, but the scarred man was trying to play the part of nonchalance rather well.

The tan-wearing former Freelancer was resting against a tree, arms behind his brown-haired head.  York seemed to casually be chatting with Tex, North, and Delta.  One or all of them would glance over at the reunion taking place in their midst every few minutes, or their eyes would wander over towards Washington, before their conversation would start up again.

…It was enough to have Washington currently keep his distance from them.  The Seas glanced around at the others in their ragtag group, hoping to distract himself if only for a moment.

Grif was standing off to the side, the orange-wearing Orc glancing over at Simmons and his cousins every so often like a little lost puppy.  Washington didn’t even need Tucker’s voice in the back of his mind yelling _“Married!”_ to figure out just why.

The Seas’ eyes roamed to the others.  Doc and Donut were conversing with Lopez, though the artificially-created man seemed to have little interest in whatever it was they were gossiping about.

Sarge had insisted on remaining on “lookout” duty, despite there currently being no threats whatsoever.  The red-wearing man held his shotgun close to his chest, his dark eyes occasionally glancing over at the cousins with a frown settling over his features.  When Sarge caught sight of Washington’s observations, he quickly turned his head in the opposite direction and gave a very unconvincing whistle.  The older man had better instincts than the Seas had initially given him credit for.

The blond noted that the two Guild trainees, Volleyball and Palomo, were standing off to the side and conversing quietly with one another.

Andersmith was chatting with a blond man named Caboose.  Wash had recently found out that the newcomer Dwarf was Niner’s adopted brother, so he found himself looking for any similarities between Caboose and his comrade.  Honestly, Four Seven Niner usually kept her personal life to herself, though the Dwarven woman had mentioned having a younger sibling once in passing.

Distantly, Washington wondered what the odds were of running into Caboose on this mission in particular.  Naturally, that brought him to the odds of Carolina meeting up with a relative too.  Everything seemed to be coming full circle.

Hell, what were the odds the remnants of Freelancer would be reunited like this to begin with?  That last question left his stomach in knots, and he shook his head to rid himself of it.  Nostalgia and fondness could be a deadly trap in this type of situation.

Washington turned his attention away from Caboose saying something to a rapt Andersmith, his gray eyes settling on Tucker.  The dark-skinned man was currently talking to Theta.

He had to admit, Tucker had a way with kids.  No doubt that was due to having raised one of his own.  The Beast Folk was currently bent over with his hands on his knees so that he was eye level with the younger boy, an encouraging grin plastered on his face as Theta shyly told him something.

“Fuck yeah, that sounds awesome!” Tucker exclaimed loudly not a second later, “You should definitely show that trick to Junior the next time you two get to play together!”

“O—okay!” The boy was beaming happily as he nodded his head before bouncing back over to North, who smiled down at Theta in a fatherly fashion.

Tucker watched them with a fond expression on his features before he turned his head and noticed Washington’s regard, “Holy fuck, dude.  Are you _smiling_?”

Wash felt his face warm up slightly at the comment, and he quickly schooled his expression into a neutral one, “I—I am not.”

“Uh-huh, sure.  Whatever you say.” Tucker had definitely not bought that.  The dark-skinned Beast Folk regarded Washington carefully for a moment, feline ears flat against his head, “You know, I’m still a little pissed at you for last night.”

Wash’s face turned bright red at the reminder, “Tucker…” he began, trailing off when he realized he didn’t know how to finish that comment.

“You could at least apologize, you know.” The younger Guild member continued as if Washington hadn’t said anything, “You kind of scared the shit out of me.”

He really hadn’t meant to.  But, when Washington had woken up from one of his all-too frequent nightmares, and he had seen Tucker sleeping so peacefully, ears twitching back and forth…

The truth was that Washington had a unique problem for a Seas: he majorly adored cats.  He had grown fond of the tiny animals when he had gone to the Unsc for Freelancer training.  In fact, Washington had found that petting cats had always calmed him down.

So last night, without thinking and in a panicked state of mind, he had reached out and scratched Tucker behind the ear.  Of course, doing so had woken Tucker up a few minutes later.  It had been awkward, to say the least.

“I’m sorry.” Washington stated sincerely, “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Obviously.” Tucker snorted, his tail swishing back and forth, “Just ask me next time, okay?”

Washington was surprised that he didn’t get some kind of warning not to do it again, but then another bit of the memory from their previous night came back to him.

“You were purring.” Washington muttered, more to himself really though he didn’t count on Tucker’s sensitive hearing, “Before you woke up.”

Tucker’s tail swished to and fro even more, and it was _his_ turn to blush, “Dude, shut the fuck up!  You’re going to wreck my reputation with the ladies!”

“You mean, I’m going to hurt the nonexistent one you have right now?” Washington couldn’t help but blurt out as Tucker gave him the finger.

*****

“…You okay?”

Really, it was a silly question to ask given what he had just heard.  Still, Simmons wasn’t really sure what else he could say given the current situation.

After all, the Magic User had always suspected that his uncle was just as big an asshole as his father was, so it wasn’t like this was surprising information.  But, for that to be confirmed by his uncle’s own children so directly was…well, it was harder to process than he thought it would be.  Simmons could only imagine how _difficult_ the past few years had been for Carolina, and especially for Church.

Church snorted, “Oh, I’m fucking peachy.” He grimaced before regarding the redhead carefully, “What about you though, Simmons?”

“Church is right.” Carolina quickly jumped in and Simmons recognized his cousins’ favorite tactic of trying to change the topic, “Are you sure this…” She glanced over in Grif’s direction cautiously before continuing, “ _Linking Magic_ is safe?”

Simmons felt his face warming up slightly at the reminder of how he had escaped Valhalla, “It…it saved my life.”

The green-eyed woman frowned in thought, “I suppose that much is true.”

“And you’re really dead set on helping your Orc boyfriend find his sister and the other kidnapped Magic Users?” Church questioned, blue eyes narrowed as he regarded the orange-wearing Grif too.

Simmons’ face was probably the hue of a tomato now, “He’s not my…!” He sighed, figuring there was no point in arguing that particular subject as he straightened his shoulders, “Yes, I’ve made up my mind.”

“Well, we’re helping now too,” Church couldn’t help smirking in response, egotistical as ever, “So that’s a plus.”

Simmons smiled gratefully at the notion.  He had honestly missed his relatives a lot.  His green eyes glanced towards Delta and Theta then, and his expression changed into a slight frown, “I still can’t believe it.” He muttered under his breath, “Now I have _two_ more cousins?”

“Make it three.” Church noted solemnly, “Gamma’s still out there somewhere.”

“So these…”

“Empathic replications.” Carolina noted, as if the phrase was totally something everyone should just instantly know off the tip of their tongue.

“They’re…” Simmons frowned deeper in thought, “Clones of you?”

“More like Fragments made into individual people.” Church’s expression darkened slightly, “I can reabsorb them if I really wanted to, like I _had_ to do with Epsilon.  But, they’re not _me_ anymore, so it’s tricky.  Not to mention really fucked up.”

Simmons felt a knot form in his stomach, “Uncle _broke_ you with some kind of Remnant?”

He still could scarcely believe it.  That the Director would do that to his own son, too…

Church sighed, “You know how my power is basically to just give a boost to any other Magic User around me, right?”

Simmons nodded.  That was why Church and Carolina usually worked together.  The siblings could do more together than they ever did apart, which was saying something considering that Carolina was practically a one woman army in her own right.

“Well, power was all that mattered at Freelancer.” Church stated darkly, voice not even hiding his anger.

“But that’s…!”

“The Director,” and Simmons couldn’t help but notice that Carolina was not calling him “ _Father_ ” anymore, “Was trying to plan for something.  Something big.”

“Like what?” Simmons asked helplessly, anxiety creeping up into his gut.

Church shrugged, “Fuck if we know.”

“Unfortunately, the project collapsed before we could find out more,” Carolina’s expression hardened, “And the Director went along with it.”

Simmons gulped, unsure of what he could really say to any of that.  It just seemed so…so…

Carolina smiled knowingly and placed her hand on his skinny shoulder, “It’s good to see you though, Simmons.”

He couldn’t help but give a watery smile in return, happy to see his cousins even if they were giving him terror-inducing news.

“Oh, geez.  Don’t start fucking crying on us already!” Church stated in exasperation a second later.

Simmons’ smile widened through his tears as he promptly shoved his cousin’s shoulder, looking back around to see what Grif was up to.

Catching up was great, and they still had even more to fucking do, but they couldn’t forget that the Guild still had a mission as well.

*****

Sheila had taken one look at the large, assembled group when they had all stepped into the Guild Headquarters’ proper entrance.  After hugging Lopez, the crystalized woman wordlessly pointed them up the stairs towards Vanessa Kimball’s office.

No sooner had they reached that level of the building then the sounds of vehement shouting could be heard behind closed doors.  It was more surprising that the heated argument wasn’t being heard all over Armonia.

“I’m telling you, the increased military presence is not necessary!” Kimball was yelling as North opened the door to her office for all of them, the former Freelancer not even bothering to knock since that would have been drowned out by all of the arguing anyways.

Dexter Grif felt as if his head was about to explode.  Today was just one of those fucking days, you know?  He had to fight the urge to just sneak away to take a ninja nap.

First, the Orc had been woken up from a comfortable sleep ( _with Simmons!_ ) at a horribly early hour.  Then, he had been threatened with finger breaking by one of Simmons’ cousins who was an ace Remnant Hunter for the Guild, no less!  Carolina was scary as fuck, not going to lie.  To top it all off, now his head was going to explode thanks to another inane argument between Donald Doyle and Kimball.

Not to mention, all of this was happening before he had even rescued Kai.  Who knew what awful things she was doing to embarrass the family at this very fucking moment?  He wasn’t there to stop her!  Life majorly sucked sometimes.

“And, as I keep telling you, I have no jurisdiction over what the Unsc military does!” Doyle countered the female Seas just as fervently, “All they want to do is find the missing prince!”

“By tearing the Outer Regions apart in their search?” Kimball’s look of disbelief was practically piercing, her dark eyes narrowed dangerously.

Now that the Guild leader was shouting about it, Grif _had_ noticed an increase in Unsc soldiers around Armonia in particular.  He just hadn’t really paid them much mind so long as they weren’t hounding Simmons.  _Priorities_.  He had them.

Surprisingly, it was _Donut_ of all people who decided to break up the argument as the pink-wearing Guild member stepped forward tentatively, “Umm, are things really that bad?”

From where Kimball and Doyle were standing, leaning over the dark-skinned woman’s desk so closely that their faces were practically touching, both leaders blinked at the interruption.  They each pulled away from the other with flushed faces, standing straight at attention.

“No, no!” Doyle assured the dirty blond as he was the first to respond, “Things are just a bit tense while the search for His Highness continues.”

Donut frowned, looking rather troubled.  The purple-wearing Doc glanced at his newfound friend in concern, not that Grif could blame him.  Donut must have been pretty upset to not even do a double entendre about things being tense.  No doubt the medic was wondering if Donut had developed a fever.

“But I am sure the Unsc will find him soon!” Doyle continued with forced merriment, as if attempting to convince himself as well.

Kimball gave a small “ _Hmph!_ ” under her breath, causing Doyle to glare at her slightly though she expertly ignored him.  “I take it you have something to report?” She stated to the group instead, not even making eye contact with the Unsc representative.

Washington and Doc quickly filled her and Doyle in on the information that the flower crown-wearing man had uncovered about Charon while in Peaceful Harbor.

Kimball frowned as they reached the end of their story, sharing a barely perceptible glance with Doyle before speaking again.  “So it sounds like this tournament will be our best bet at uncovering information regarding this case.” She concluded, eyes clouded over in though.

“Yeah, but how should we even approach it?” Tucker asked, voicing what they were all thinking.

For a few moments, Kimball was silent with a contemplative look on her aqua-tinged, dark-skinned features.  At length, the Seas finally spoke, “We’ll form two teams.  One team will consist of people who will enter the tournament as participants.  The other team will use the distraction that the tournament will provide to further investigate the area.”  She looked back up at the group before concluding, “North, York, Delta, and Theta will stay here in Armonia for potential backup.  But, I will leave who will be on what team to your party’s discretion.”

Truthfully?  Neither option sounded too great to Grif.  But, if it would help get his sister back, he wouldn’t complain.  Too much, at any rate.  He did have a fucking slacker reputation that he needed to maintain.

“Carolina and Tex, I’d also like to ask the two of you to stand down from taking part in either team.”

The two women in question both glanced at each other.  They seemed ready to protest the Guild leader’s request, but Kimball held up her webbed hand to stop them, “This is only because I have another role in mind for the two of you.  One that _should_ make our plan more likely to succeed.” She stated, realizing that she needed to cut off any objections.

That seemed to calm things down quite a bit, although both Tex and Carolina still seemed oddly perturbed by the idea of working together.

Kimball tapped her fingers on her desk, “I would also like for Sheila and Doctor Grey to come along on this mission too.”

“I can tell Doctor Grey!” Sarge stated, a little too enthusiastically.  Grif was kind of terrified.

“Se lo diré a Sheila.”  _{“I will tell Sheila.”}_

“There’s only a limited time to get ready, so I suggest everyone get their things in order now.” Kimball noted with a nod of her head.

Just like that, everyone began to disperse to do their own thing as the Seas leader of the Guild turned to face Doyle once more to no doubt prepare to continue their shouting match.  Grif stayed behind as the others filed past him, waiting for the nerdy kiss-ass whose anxiety he could feel as strongly as if it was his own.

As Simmons walked past Grif, the Orc stopped him by gently grasping onto his wrist, “Hey,” he stated as casually as he could, “Crazy day, huh?”

Simmons blinked for a few moments before he slightly smiled nervously, “Tell me about it.”

“How are you holding up?” After all, it wasn’t all the time that you were suddenly reunited with loved ones out of the blue.  Grif was surprised the maroon-wearing human wasn’t just a bundle of nerves lying inert on the floor, or punching mirrors dramatically somewhere.

“Oh, I—I’m doing fine!” Simmons told him reassuringly, “I’m just…glad to have my family back.”  He looked at Grif then, green eyes burning seriously, “We’re going to find Kai, Grif.”

Just then, he felt a radiating wave of determination from Simmons that cut through the normally neurotic redhead’s anxiety.  This fucking nerd could be oddly stubborn and self-assured at the oddest of times.  The feeling from their Linking Magic was warm and made Grif smile.

“I know we will.” He murmured as he failingly tried to maintain his apathetic reputation, “Fucking asshole.”

Simmons gave a surprised look when the chubby Orc moved his hand from his wrist and wrapped it around the redhead’s own.  Grif gave the nerd a reassuring squeeze that Simmons couldn’t help but return a second later.

“Jackass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff in this chapter: cousins reunited, Wash and Tucker both became embarrassed, Bitters finally got Matthews to talk, Grif and Simmons had a moment, and two very stubborn leaders are still trying to argue the other side into submission. :D I had a blast writing it. :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

C.T. was technically _supposed_ to be out on patrol, though her mind was admittedly elsewhere.  She knew it shouldn’t be, especially with the tournament preparations well underway.  But, since when the hell did she always do what she was supposed to do?

The town of Rat’s Nest was located close to Orcish territory.  So, it had always been rather lively, especially in the simply-look-the-other-way variety.  That had been why Rat’s Nest had appealed so much to the Insurrection as a hideout.  With the added bonus of the nearby and surprisingly still intact ruins, Rat’s Nest was an ideal location.

Now, though, with Charon promoting their tournament through their own channels?  Rat’s Nest had become too damn lively and noisy.  It almost had the air of a festival about it, to the point where C.T. was starting to have trouble just _thinking_.

Which sucked since there was _plenty_ that the former Freelancer needed to think about, the least of which was actually the security for whatever pointless recruitment drive Charon was gunning for.  After all, she also had to think about the kidnapped Magic Users, or Charon’s continued interest in Relics and Remnants.  The brunette had a feeling that neither of those things would lead to pleasant outcomes.

C.T. sighed, her eyes going over the busy comings and goings of Rat’s Nest.  The townspeople were definitely in the mood to celebrate despite whatever seemingly trivial-to-them concerns were busy floating through her mind.

It made her sick to her stomach in a way, especially since she knew that she should be planning to make a move of her own.  Soon.  _Whatever_ move she ended up deciding upon, that is.  So lost in her own thoughts, the brown-armored female hadn’t even noticed that she had already made her way towards the outskirts of the town.

“Well, well.  If it isn’t good ol’ C.T.” A familiar voice suddenly spoke up from behind, “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

C.T. spun around, hand drawn to the throwing knife at her side.  Her eyes, however, belied her surprise at finding _Florida_ of all people standing in front of her.  There was another all-too familiar face with him too, a face that belonged to a blonde with violet tips at the end of her short hair.  C.T. was perhaps even _more_ shocked to see her than Florida given the woman’s abrupt departure from a certain program long, long ago…

“Florida?” C.T. questioned, hand still lingering over her knife hilt just to be on the safe side as she’d rather be cautious than dead.  She’d be so pissed at herself if she let an old comrade’s face still her survival instincts for just a second, “ _South_?”

The man in blue simply smiled at her good-naturedly, though C.T. knew Florida well enough to know that the older man was just as prepared to use a weapon against her as she was should the need arise regardless of whatever possible pleasantries he might otherwise say.

South, on the other hand, seemed oddly relaxed.  Her face was the picture of confidence with an _I-don’t-really-give-a-fuck-what-you-do_ expression as she smirked in the brunette’s direction, “What’s the matter, C.T.?” She taunted a second later, “You look like you’ve just seen a couple of ghosts.”

*****

York was currently at the Guild Headquarters, having just returned from getting Delta something to eat.  The brown-haired man sighed as he walked through the building’s halls, remembering the recent ordeal.  Getting food into Delta once he was focused on a task at hand was always a test of will.

The green-wearing man would lose himself in his work and would forget to eat otherwise.  …Which didn’t seem all _that_ logical to York, but what did he know?  The former Freelancer narrowed his eyes, recalling how Delta had insisted that York go back to the Guild Headquarters first _“In case we are urgently needed.  Let’s not forget who insisted on the break in the first place.”_

Truthfully, York suspected that his partner had some ulterior motives for suggesting that he head back without him.  Mainly, Delta had a soft spot for the kabobs that they had been snacking on, so York not being around meant there was more for him to enjoy.  Besides that, the dark-haired man was probably hoping that York would run into Carolina while by himself.

…The little shit was always a bit more meddlesome in York’s life than he’d probably ever admit out loud.

Honestly, York would have loved to tell Delta that his plan had been for naught.  But, unfortunately as he turned a corner in the building, he spotted the red-headed woman in question talking to Tex.

Both women turned at the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor, and York couldn’t help but grimace awkwardly at the fact that he’d been spotted so damn quickly.  He was _so_ going to give Delta a piece of his mind for this.  Later.

For a moment hesitation flared in Carolina’s green eyes, and York sighed.  He knew that it should be him to make the first attempt to communicate after what had happened earlier between them.  He hoped Carolina wouldn’t leave before he could at least make the effort.  Or before she kicked him somewhere that would _really_ hurt.

Those thoughts spurred York on into action as he rubbed the back of his head rather awkwardly, “Hey, I would have thought that you two would be on the move by now.” He stated casually enough.

Tex raised a blond eyebrow at his antics, “The first group just left, but North will be sending us along soon.”

He nodded, attempting to play it cool but most likely failing miserably since that was always the case when Carolina was around, “I just wish we could tag along as well.”

Carolina frowned at his almost wistful tone just then, “It wouldn’t be wise to leave Doyle unprotected, and with the prince still missing…” She began before trailing off, figuring they could fill in the blanks.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, “I know, I know.” He assured her, grinning slightly, “Still can’t blame a guy for wishing, right?”

_That_ only caused the redhead’s frown to deepen, a sight that caused his smile to falter.  Right.  Those words were a poor choice on his end.  After all, his last attempt at _“wishing”_ and _“trying”_ with Carolina hadn’t exactly gone too well.

York’s mind started reeling for a way to take back what he had said, and Tex seemed to expertly pick up on the tension in the air.  She glanced between the two of them before nodding to herself, “Right.” She stated quickly enough, “Well, I should probably go and see if North and Theta are ready for us, so…”

Carolina nodded curtly and Tex walked off, though not before giving York a rough sympathetic pat on the shoulder.  Following her departure, silence resounded in the hallway.  Carolina stood rigidly still as if waiting for him to fill it.  She never was the best at small talk.

The tan-wearing man let out a deep breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in, “So,” York began in an attempt at being conversational, “Your cousin showed up, huh?”

_That_ was definitely not the line of questioning that Carolina had expected from him, and it showed on her face as she nodded just as awkwardly in response.  York could relate since he was inwardly feeling uncomfortable as hell.

“Bet that was a shock.” York carried on with the conversation though as if he _wasn’t_ the biggest idiot in the world just then, which took a lot of effort on his part.

Carolina frowned as her green eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, “So, are we just going to ignore what happened before?”

Damn.  Leave it to Carolina to get straight to the point.  But, that was just one of the things that York admired so much about her.

He sighed, “If I said I was sorry, would you believe me?”

“Would it be sincere?” The cyan-armored woman questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded him with a now carefully placed neutral expression on her features, “As far as I can tell, you’re still against the group splitting up like we did.”

“Because we were fractured enough already!” York felt his voice rise in pitch again, the same frustration building up inside him as it had before when they’d gone down this line of discussion, “You didn’t have to leave so soon after everything was said and done.”

…After they’d just started picking up the pieces again.  After Wash, C.T., South, Florida, Wyoming, and Gamma had all scattered too.  Remnants of Freelancer spread across the world with no sense of direction or purpose.

Carolina stepped over to a nearby window that overlooked the rather busy Armonian city street below.  Glancing out the window himself, York could spot Junior, Tucker’s young son, playing with his babysitter, the Guild healer called Bones.

Moments passed and York figured Carolina wouldn’t respond, but she was always full of surprises, “I think I did.” She finally stated quietly, continuing to stare out the window and not at him, “I needed to remove myself from the situation.  I needed to think.”

Maybe she _had_ said that before too.  Maybe York had been too stubborn then to listen.  Too hurt, too desperate, and too selfish all at once.

York sighed, standing next to her, “So did you find what you were looking for?”  He wouldn’t have asked that question before, and it was as close to an apology as he was liable to get now.

Carolina seemed to take it as such, seemed to _understand_ why he couldn’t say more.  She pried her eyes away from the window to glance over at him, “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

In a way, the same could be said for all of those left in the aftermath of Freelancer.  He sighed once more, his good eye glued onto the pyrotechnics display going on outside, “I really missed you, you know.” He mumbled more to himself than to her.

Carolina picked up on it, however, glancing over at him with a knowing expression on her features.  She leaned over so that her shoulder slightly touched his own, “It’s important that we keep a clear head until this business with Charon is settled.” She finally stated at length.

He nodded, though a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest at her proximity, “But maybe a cup of coffee every once in a while wouldn’t kill us, you know?”

Carolina smirked playfully, pretending to take a long while to deliberate on what he had said, “I suppose not.”

It was a start, and York couldn’t help but grin.  That was all he could hope for right now.

*****

When Filss brought Matthews back to his cell, it was obvious that the Seas boy was still shaken up by what had happened.  Still, Matthews was a bit more talkative to the other prisoners now.  For their part, his fellow captives seemed at least grateful to finally find out the young man’s name.

“I would advise rest.” The diamond woman told Matthews gently as she reluctantly locked him back inside, “You have been through a very traumatic event.”

Matthews nodded, once more curling in on himself on the floor of his prison, “Th—thanks.”

She nodded, smiling back at him as reassuringly as she could.

“I’m just glad we have you in our corner.” Kaikaina Grif spoke up, spitting off to the side of her cell, “Since I think we can trust you more than that dye job asshole who’s usually on guard duty.”

The dwarven pilot Four Seven Niner raised a dark eyebrow at her fellow prisoner: “I thought you were colorblind.  How can you tell his hair is dyed?”

“Please, all those different shades of gray?” Kai responded, “Even I can recognize a bad dye job when I see one.  Dude’s hair is fucked up.”

Filss frowned, casting a knowing glance towards Matthews.  The auburn-haired Seas seemed to perk up slightly at the mention of Bitters, even if the yellow-wearing girl had referenced Bitters in an insult.  “He—he’s not so bad.” Matthews finally muttered lamely.

Seconds later, Filss stated, “I believe that guard might be more trustworthy than you think.”

“Huh.  I feel like I just missed something important.” Kai said in response to both of them, regarding the two curiously.  The half-Orc looked over into Katie Jensen’s cell for confirmation, but the brunette simply shrugged her shoulders unhelpfully in response.

Four Seven Niner raised her hands to the bars of her cell, “Regardless, you being in our corner seems like a sure thing. So,” she informed Filss before raising a black eyebrow in the woman’s direction, “What’s your story?”

Filss frowned at the question, “ _My_ story?”

“You obviously don’t agree with all of…well, _this_.” The dwarven airship pilot gestured around her, “So why are you working for Charon?”

The diamond woman frowned as the other three prisoners leaned forward expectantly just then to listen to her response.  Filss bent her head down a fraction, eyes suddenly glued to the stone floor beneath their feet, “No one’s ever asked before.”

“Chalk it up to boredom if you want.” Four Seven Niner shrugged, “You don’t _have_ to answer if you don’t want to.”

Filss shook her head suddenly, “No, it’s all right.” She reassured the other woman, “I—!“

But, the door to the dungeon area opened at that exact moment, and the aforementioned Antoine Bitters entered the space.  His brown eyes flickered to everyone in the area, lastly lingering on Matthews as if to make sure that the other boy was as all right as he could be given the circumstances.

“There _might_ be something we can do to help you guys out further.” Bitters stated without much preamble a mere second later.

Kaikaina frowned before fixing the dark-skinned human with a suspicious glare, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Bitters glanced behind him as if making sure that the hallway beyond that he had just walked through was clear of any passersby.  Matthews, Jensen, and Four Seven Niner exchanged curious looks with each other, unsure of what to make of the guard’s actions.

“You guys might be able to get out of here thanks to a huge ass distraction that’s coming up,” Bitters hurriedly informed the prisoners before gesturing between himself and Filss, “And the two of us are going to help you do it.”

*****

“Oh, wow.  Thanks a lot!” Franklin Delano Donut stated cheerfully to the Guild contact who had thrown the Teleportation Orb close by the town of Rat’s Nest for their traveling party, “You’re just as good at tossing as North is!”

It was probably no surprise that the poor guy excused himself as quickly as he did following that, though Richard “Dick” Simmons suspected his also being undercover had something to do with it.  He never even had a chance to learn the guy’s name.

…Not that Simmons really saw much of the unnamed Guild contact beyond his feet scurrying away from the pink-wearing Donut since _he_ was on the fucking ground yet _again_.  Seriously, while he knew that instantaneous travel was something of a boon for an organization like the Guild, couldn’t they maybe, just _maybe_ use an airship for once instead?

“Donut, do me a favor and never say any of those words ever again.” Dexter Grif said from somewhere close by, but standing up.  The bastard.

“Apoyado.”  _{“Seconded.”}_

“Ow.  The back of my head!” Simmons muttered out loud to no one in particular as he glanced around their surroundings.

The brown-wearing Lopez was helping to steady Sheila nearby, the crystalline woman looking over at her longtime friend Simmons in mild surprise at his predicament.  “Do you need help, Simmons?” She asked him not a moment later.

“Sucede con tanta frecuencia, estoy seguro de que está acostumbrado.”  _{“It happens so frequently, I’m sure he’s used to it.”}_

Whatever Lopez said seemed to cause Sheila to relax slightly, though she shot Simmons a sympathetic and encouraging smile all the same.

“That does seem to happen to you a lot, huh?” Frank “Doc” DuFresne supplied oh-so-helpfully, sounding almost amused by the predicament.  If the flower crown-wearing man offered an orange juice solution, Simmons would probably scream at Doc about how that wasn’t a scientific solution.

As it were, Simmons felt his face start to burn up in embarrassment at the attention that was being placed upon him being laid out flat on his back on the ground once more.

“Hey, now.  Look on the bright side!” Lavernius Tucker stated, a grin suffusing his Beast Folk features, “At least this way we know that you and Church are _definitely_ related!”

Sure enough, as Simmons turned his red-haired head to the side, he saw that his cousin was flat on the ground as well.  The black-haired human promptly gave Tucker the finger as Caboose and Andersmith raced over to help him up.

“Oh, fuck you, Tucker.” Leonard Church muttered under his breath to his friend.

“Hey, you’ve got to look on the bright side of things when you can!” Tucker replied, continuing to grin.

“I take it that Junior is still with Bones, sir?” Volleyball inquired after assisting Charles Palomo from his sitting positon on the ground.

The dark-haired rookie had taken that upright position before North had sent the party on their way, and Simmons couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good Teleportation Orb travel precautionary measure.  …Then he realized he was thinking that Palomo of all people had a good idea and began to contemplate what had gone wrong with his life to get to this point.

Tucker’s smile faded slightly, though he covered it up well enough with his usual bravado when he replied: “Yeah, he’s hoping we’ll kick ass though.”

It must be hard, leaving a child every time a mission came up.  Simmons felt a tinge of sympathy for the Beast Folk then.

“Boy’s close to my own heart.” Sarge muttered fondly at Tucker’s statement.

Tucker smiled proudly, “He’s a trooper, all right.” He stated quickly, turning around so that his back was pretty much to everyone.

The dark-skinned man took a step forward, only for Washington to stop him by putting a lingering hand on his arm, “Stay on guard.” He advised the Beast Folk, “Rat’s Nest is no place to let yourself become distracted in.”

Tucker pulled a face towards the Seas, “Dude, I know.”

“Preaching to the choir, son.” Sarge declared haughtily from close by.

“I’ll be here to tend to all wounds should the worst happen!” Emily Grey cheerfully stated, as if eerily eager at the prospect as her Beast Folk fox ears twitched slightly at the top of her head.

“Oh, me too!” Doc couldn’t help but chime in, clearly enjoying the whole situation way too much.

“Remind me to stay healthy.” Grif muttered under his breath to no one in particular.

“You can let go now, you know.” Tucker stated to a rather overwhelmed-just-then-looking Washington.

The Seas blinked at his statement, realization slowly seeping into his features when he stared down at his hand.  It was still gripped steadily around the Beast Folk’s arm.  He blushed slightly, the appearance showing even on his gray-tinged skin, “R—right.” Then the blond quickly removed his hand, albeit with an oddly reluctant look in his gray eyes that nearly bordered on unreadable.

But, that was about all Simmons saw of the exchange before an orange-lined hand was shoved directly in front of his face.  He blinked up into Grif’s apathetic features, not entirely sure what to make of the appendage.

“Need help or are you going to lie there for the rest of the day?” Grif asked him, a sudden smirk crossing over his tan-skinned features, “Not that I can’t understand the desire, really.”

Simmons felt his freckled face warm in embarrassment again as he took the proffered hand, Grif helping to lift him up with ease.  He forgot how strong the Orc really was until situations like this happened.

“Th—thanks.” Simmons mumbled under his breath, feeling more awkward and self-conscious than usual for some reason as he let go of the chubby man’s hand.

Grif simply shrugged before moving off to talk to Tucker and Washington about something.  Simmons distantly heard _“Where’s some good beer and food here?”_ coming from their direction, with a long-suffering sigh that sounded like it came from Washington.

However, he missed the rest of their conversation since Church sidled up to his cousin at that exact moment, “So, do those orbs fucking suck or what?”

Simmons couldn’t help but wince in agreement, “Tell me about it.”  Talking to Church again caused another thought to cross his mind, and he frowned slightly before voicing it, “It’s just too bad that Carolina couldn’t come too.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Church informed his cousin matter-of-factly, “I have a feeling all three of us will get the chance to play catch-up again soon.”  He cast a blue-eyed sideways look over towards the red-haired young man, smirking, “But what _I_ want to know right now is what’s going on with you and your magic-linked Orc over there.”

Simmons _knew_ his face was as red as Sarge’s outfit just then as he tried to sputter out a response: “Tha—that’s, umm…!”

Church’s smirk only widened at the Magic User’s stuttering, and a panicking Simmons wracked his brain for a way to get his nosy and teasing relative to back off.  He grasped desperately at the one thing that came to mind, “Wha—what’s going on between you and Tex?” Simmons countered.

Church’s face became slightly red at the mention of his girlfriend’s name.  At the sudden turn of events, he looked over towards his cousin rather approvingly.  “Damn, I should have seen that coming.” Church muttered under his breath before slapping Simmons affectionately on the back, “Oh, well.  Guess I’ll figure out another way to embarrass you later.”

Thankfully, with that the cobalt-wearing man took his leave to go check on Caboose and Freckles.  Simmons was breathing a heavy sigh of relief just as Grif came back over.

“Hey, I thought I felt a spike of nervousness just now.” The orange-wearing Orc stated without preamble, glancing over the redhead quickly, “Everything okay?”

Shit.  Simmons had almost forgotten that Grif seemed to be infuriatingly better attuned with this _“Linking Magic”_ than he was.  Simmons could feel the blush once again spread over his entire body, not enjoying the sudden focus back on him.

The maroon-wearing man laughed nervously in an attempt to try and cover up his nerves even though he knew it was pointless thanks to the Linking Magic, “Um, yeah, everything’s fine!” Simmons tried reassuring the Orc, “Just…just a little nervous about this mission, I guess.”

Grif’s shoulders slightly relaxed, and he looked mildly amused at Simmons’ confession, “You do realize that you’ve got the easier job of things, right?”

Simmons frowned at the reminder that Grif was to be part of the group that would be participating in the tournament.  They still didn’t know the details of what it would entail entirely.  Personally, Simmons hated not being as prepared as possible for any eventuality.  Now, with that in mind, the redhead felt anxiety starting to build up inside him for a very different reason than before.

Subconsciously, he reached for his scarred ears.  His fear must have registered on his face and definitely throughout the rest of his body, because Grif frowned slightly at the redhead before gripping Simmons’ shoulders tightly in a reassuring grip.  …Oh, right.  _Fucking Linking Magic._

“Simmons.” The Orc’s voice was emphatic when he spoke, drawing the other man’s attention away from just how _warm_ his hands were, “Things are going to be fine.”

Simmons couldn’t help but swallow down on empty air and nod his head weakly in response, hoping that Grif was right, “Thanks, fat-ass.”

They would find Kai and the others.  They just _had_ to.

Grif looked over Simmons’ face carefully one last time before nodding himself, almost hesitating a moment before letting go of the human’s shoulders.

“Hey, guys!  You better hurry up or you’ll be left behind,” Donut yelled helpfully from farther away where everyone else was now gathered, “And you’ll have to push through even harder when going through the rear!”

Simmons and Grif glanced at one another one last time before each nodded slightly in reassurance to the other.  Then they joined the rest of their Guild traveling party as they started to make their way towards Rat’s Nest proper.

“Donut, do me another favor,” Grif said to the dirty blond as they walked, “And add that entire last phrase to the list of words you should never say again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more set-up this time around, but that’s kind of necessary for the next part of the story! Things will definitely be picking up in future chapters as all of the individual characters start making their moves. Still, I enjoyed writing out a lot of the character interactions in this part! :)
> 
> I hope that everyone stays safe and warm if you’re stuck with snowy weather currently! Thank you to everyone who read this! :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

C.T., while traversing her usual rounds of Rat’s Nest, unsurprisingly found South at one of the local taverns.  The woman in orchid armor was already into her third tankard of ale by the time C.T. approached her.

The sight of South drinking brought about a surprising twinge of nostalgia.  C.T. had lost count of how many times back in the days of Freelancer that she had often found the platinum blonde with orchid tipped highlights at a bar.  In a way, the familiar routine was bittersweet given everything that had transpired since those Freelancer days.

If South was here, then that meant their other former Freelancer associate had to be nearby.  C.T. scanned the crowd around them for another familiar face.  The people who filled the tavern were all bustling with drinks in hand, but the brunette could not spot Florida amongst them.  That didn’t really shock her, truthfully.  When the blue-armored man wanted to be scarce, he had ways of making sure he was not to be found.

Besides, Florida never was much of a drinker.  Unless Wyoming had dragged him along to a team outing.

South caught the brown-armored woman’s eye and lifted her tankard to C.T. in a patronizing sort-of salute before kicking out the chair in front of her, “Take a load off.  Or not.” She shrugged, “No skin off my back either way.”

C.T. smiled thinly before settling down across from the other woman, “Not challenging me to a drinking contest this time, I see.” She tried joking.

South snorted, “Like fuck I’d do that again, especially after that fifth time.”

Yes, there were many memories like that from Freelancer.  C.T. could recall all of the times in Valhalla that she’d had to drag a thoroughly plastered South back to their dormitories.  All while being mildly buzzed herself.  The petite brunette certainly didn’t look like a heavy drinker, but she could definitely hold her liquor.  South, and many of their other Freelancer comrades, had learned that lesson the hard way.

Come to think of it, only _Wash_ of all people had ever bested her…

“You finish your lookout duty, or whatever it was?” South questioned uncaringly while bringing her glass to her lips, pale blue eyes narrowed in a familiar scowl.

C.T. nodded her head, trying to gauge just how this conversation was going to go.  Honestly, she always had a hard time gauging interactions with South.

“Shitty job _and_ new digs, if you ask me.” The woman across from C.T. remarked casually enough when she realized she wasn’t going to get a vocal reply, though there was a piercing, assessing edge to South’s pale eyes.

C.T. didn’t say anything in response, opting instead to purse her lips into a thin line.  Always keep your guard up.  It was what she had learned to do back in Freelancer.

“Which is _why_ I’m guessing you’re up to something big.” South concluded before putting her muddied boots up on the table in a relaxed fashion, “You always saw a bigger picture than the rest of us assholes.”

C.T. glanced around the loud space cautiously, but the noise had definitely drowned out South’s words to anyone but her.

“South…” she began in warning, her frown deepening.

South raised up her left hand, “Relax.  I can guess what’s on your mind _this_ time easily enough,” she smirked, “And I want in.”

The brunette blinked, caught off-guard by the admission, “Why?”

A shrug, “Chalk it up to fucking boredom or whatever other bullshit you want.  I don’t really care.” South put her feet down and leaned forward dangerously close to C.T., her warm breath tickling her face, “I am _not_ being kept out of the loop this time.  You got me?”  C.T. gave her a curt nod, and South visibly relaxed and leaned back as if nothing had even happened.  “Great.  So, what do you need a mercenary like myself to do?” She asked.

Connecticut closed her eyes, thinking for a moment.  It _was_ true that having more allies in general would be beneficial.  “The best thing you could do is get through the tournament.” She finally stated.

South scoffed and glanced around at the tavern patrons, many of whom would be her competition, “Like any of these douchebags will prove to be a challenge.”

The brown-armored woman could only smirk in reply.  What South said wasn’t just boastful talking, there was a lot of truth to it.  C.T. had no doubt that South would be more than able to hold her own in the upcoming tournament.

In fact, C.T. had a sneaking suspicion that was why Florida had insisted on “ _you two gals having a good, long talk_ ” after the brunette had finished her patrol.  That thought about their Freelancer comrade led her to wonder…

“Any idea why Florida told you about what was going on here?” C.T. mused to the woman across from her, genuinely curious about what was going through the man’s mind.

South shrugged indifferently, “Who the fuck knows?  But, I am pretty sure _he’s_ on the lookout for a certain mustached asshole, and I’m also assuming said asshole happens to be close by.”

“That’s a pretty good guess.” C.T. couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile.

South smirked, “Of course it is.  Things are certainly starting to look up.” Her pale blue eyes widened momentarily as she caught sight of something over C.T.’s shoulder, “Maybe even more than I thought.”

C.T. shot her reaction a puzzled look before she turned her head, her own eyes widening at a familiar-looking, yellow-tinged Seas standing in a crowd of people.  One other figure in the group she couldn’t help but recognize as well.

…What the hell were _Wash_ and _Church_ doing in Rat’s Nest?

*****

Honestly, Dexter Grif was thankful that the Guild group had no problem sighing up for the tournament.  He wasn’t really in the mood for having to deal with a ton of paperwork and shit.  Although, to be honest, he _never_ was.  Paperwork was for kiss-ass nerds who like to wear maroon.

No, this was one of the few instances in his life when Grif very much wanted to get things over and done with.  After all, they were now in Rat’s Nest.  That meant they were one step closer to finding Kai and…

Out of the corner of his eye, Grif saw the human redhead standing next to him tense slightly.  The Orc couldn’t help but shoot the kiss-ass nerd a reassuring smirk.  Right.  If he didn’t want to worry Simmons, he had to control his emotions more.

The chubby man sighed, thinking not for the first time that this Linking Magic business was both good and troublesome all at once.  …Though a very large part of him would now admit that he was terrified at the thought of it somehow going away.  Well, admit it inwardly.  Not out loud.  He had to maintain his chill and laidback reputation, after all.

“I just…I just don’t understand why I have to participate in the tournament.” Doc was saying to Donut, Lopez, and Sheila at that very moment, Grif’s Orc sense of hearing picking up on the conversation.

“It couldn’t be helped.” Sheila said, the crystalline woman’s tone apologetic, “After all, you’re one of the only Guild members here who hasn’t been taking on active assignments.”

“Así pues, las probabilidades son menos probables que alguien le reconocerá ... excepto quizá un comerciante de la flor.”  _{“So, odds are less likely that someone will recognize you…save maybe a flower merchant.”}_

Whatever Lopez had said to the flower crown-wearing Doc was lost to Donut’s enthusiastic nodding.  “Lopez and Sheila are right, Doc.  It’s best to keep up appearances!” He exclaimed, “That way, everyone’s surprised when we come in from the rear!”

Uh-huh.  Best not to think too hard on that last statement.

“That is also why Washington and I will be participating as well.” Andersmith chimed in encouragingly, “Since we technically aren’t Guild members, there’s less chance we’ll be recognized.”

“That’s true.” The purple-wearing Doc nodded his head slightly, a sigh escaping from his mouth, “I’m just very much opposed to violence, so I’m kind of unsure how this will play out.  I’m a pacifist, you know!”

Donut smiled, leaning forward to touch Doc reassuringly on the arm, “You’ll do just fine, Doc!” He stated emphatically, “I’ll be there to cheer you on.  The others too!”

As the assembled group of predetermined bystanders nodded their heads, Doc’s brown eyes only had sights on Donut.  The dirty blond’s words were causing him to blush quite readily.  Grif turned away, not sure that he wanted to witness more of the exchange for fear of vomiting.

Currently, their traveling party were heading towards the inn to get squared away for the night.  For once, Grif was both eager to do so and far too anxious to probably fall asleep right away.  A real conundrum, that.  Of course, he had no doubt that he’d power through and get some sleep.  He was a master when it came to sleeping, after all.

With a cursory glance, the orange-armored Guild member saw Tucker hold back from joining the rest of the group.  The Orc raised a black eyebrow at his friend’s hesitation, but he noticed that Washington had seemed to pick up on it too.  The former Freelancer was hanging back now as well.

So, Grif grabbed onto Simmons’ arm and, ignoring the “ _Hey!_ ” coming from the maroon-wearing human who had been in the middle of conversing with his cousin Church, headed quickly towards the direction of the inn.

Maybe some extra portions of dinner with Simmons chiding him like always would help Grif drift off into a comfortable sleep.

*****

A heavy silence, for once _not_ punctured by the sounds of yelling, filled the office of the Guild Master in Armonia as both Vanessa Kimball and Donald Doyle processed the latest reports from North and York over tea.

Truthfully, the tradition of having tea together had started a long time ago, during their first series of debates that had lasted well into the night.  The dark-skinned Seas woman had nearly forgotten _when_ exactly, having gotten so used to the ritual.  She certainly had never expected the tea time to evolve from having to resist the urge to toss scalding water into her Unsc opponent’s face to almost being a relaxing, nearly _pleasurable_ affair.

Honestly?  Kimball wasn’t sure what to make of that more recent development.  Instead, she focused on the reports they had just gotten.  On the words in the reports or, more likely, the absence of them.

She frowned, tapping a webbed finger on the table.  There was just too little information to go on right now until Tucker’s group came back.  Both with the missing prince situation, as well as the kidnapped Magic Users…

The understandable silence on that end was frustrating her beyond belief.

“Is…ah, everything all right?” Doyle worked up the courage to ask her after she continued to silently glare at her cup of tea for several minutes.

She counted down from ten to avoid snapping at him like she might have done in the past, “I’m just…” Kimball frowned, sighed, and started over again, “The lack of communication is bothering me.”

Doyle sighed himself, a look of understanding crossing over his features, “Believe me, Miss Kimball, I sympathize.”  She made a face at his word choice, and he hurriedly carried on to avoid a blow-out, “But we have the means and resources to launch a coordinated assault should the need arise.  Right now, we both have our own tasks to do.”

Kimball nodded her head slightly, taking a gulping swig of her now lukewarm tea.  A part of her _still_ hated when she knew he was right, but she was secretly thankful for his awkward attempt at cheering her up all the same.

*****

Tucker had stopped walking alongside the others as they headed in the direction of the inn, an uncharacteristically troubled expression clouding his dark-skinned features.  Despite telling himself that whatever was going on was none of his business as he didn’t _really_ know the Guild member personally after all, David Washington found himself stopping tentatively as well.

The Seas waited a few seconds for the others to get further on ahead before turning to face the cat-eared Beast Folk completely.  He figured that Tucker’s usual bravado meant that he would like the least amount of people as possible to see him falter.  That was something he could relate to.

“Is something the matter, Tucker?” Washington asked carefully, unsure if he was crossing a line by inquiring.

Tucker’s ears twitched in that way that had Washington subconsciously clench his hands to avoid embarrassing himself by reaching out to pat the other man’s head on impulse.

“Yeah,” the dark-skinned man in teal finally admitted with a thoughtful frown crossing over his features, “When they said tournament, I thought this would be a one-on-one type of deal.”

Washington nodded his head.  That made sense.  He imagined most people would think that when they heard the word “ _tournament_.”

“But with how they registered our group, and the way the crowd’s been acting about the fight, I’m starting to think it’s going to be more of a free-for-all type of deal.”

Washington had to admit, he was more than a bit impressed that Tucker had picked up on that as well simply from reading the room.  Maybe there was potential in the younger man after all.

Tucker’s tail twitched, his frown deepening as he spoke so quietly that Washington had to strain his ears to hear him, “I’ve done one-on-one before, but a free-for-all?  I’m man enough to admit that’s only been in my wildest dreams and with a bunch of chicks, bow-chicka-bow-wow!”

Washington couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Juvenile phrasing issues aside,” he started at Tucker incredulously, “Tucker, are you actually getting _nervous_?”

Tucker’s eyes flashed momentarily and a deep blush suddenly suffused his features as he scoffed far too eagerly at the notion for Washington’s guess to _not_ be true, “What?  Fuck no, I’m just…” He paused, looking anywhere but at Washington then, “Not as sure about the sudden change in plans, is all.”

Uh-huh.  So, he _was_ slightly nervous.  The Seas surprised both himself _and_ Tucker by reaching out and giving both of Tucker’s shoulders an awkward, reassuring pat.  “The plan isn’t really changing all that much, Tucker.” He told him as his hands dropped almost reluctantly back to his sides, “In fact, this _might_ be even more to our advantage.”

“How so?” Tucker stared down at where Washington’s hands had been touching his shoulders mere moments before.  Then he looked up at Washington’s gray face with a doubtful expression on his own.

“This will increase the chance that some members of our group will make it past the preliminaries, as opposed to pinning our hopes on just one person.” Washington told him, “The talk about the tournament winners has all been of the last _ones_ standing.”

He emphasized the plural, and Tucker’s face lit up in understanding: “Fuck yeah.  So, what you’re saying is, we just have to make sure that some of us get past the first round.”

Washington nodded his head, a strange content feeling building up in his chest at the sight of the beginning of a grateful, back-to-his-usual-overly-cocky-self smile from Tucker.

“Might be easier said than done, _Wash_.” A surprisingly all-too familiar voice sneered from just behind his new friend, wearing all too familiar orchid armor.  The brunette who hadn’t spoken was also familiar and for a second the Seas was back at Freelancer in Valhalla before he reminded himself that this was Rat’s Nest.

When he got back to his senses, the blood in Washington’s veins froze.  Without even acknowledging the confused look on Tucker’s face, he grabbed the other man’s wrist and instinctively pulled him behind his own body.

C.T. looked understanding-but-slightly-hurt-still at the gesture from where she stood next to South, but the platinum blonde simply smirked even more at her former comrade’s action.  “Well, look who’s finally wised up.” She remarked, “Did you miss us, kiddo?”

*****

Arranging rooms for such a large group all on short notice wasn’t an easy task.  But, fortunately, with some sharing involved the local inn at Rat’s Nest had a few more left.  As it were, Sheila, Doctor Grey, and Volleyball would all be sharing one room, while the inn’s largest one went to Palomo, Doc, Donut, Church, Caboose, and Andersmith.

Even with six beds promised for said space, Richard “Dick” Simmons was somewhat glad that he wasn’t assigned that room given how undoubtedly crowded it would be.  Not to mention noisy.  He inwardly cringed at the loud volume at which Caboose, Palomo, and Donut were already happily discussing sleepover arrangements.

The redhead saw his cousin’s eye twitching, and he suddenly felt a tinge of sympathy for Church.  Of course, that sympathy faded immediately at the smirk that crossed Church’s face when the cobalt-wearing man found out about Simmons’ sleeping arrangement.

It turned out that Grif and Simmons would be sharing a room again since _“It had worked out really well!_ ” last time, according to a cheerful Donut.  The pink-wearing man’s proclamation only caused Church’s smirk to widen as he wriggled his eyebrows condescendingly in his red-faced relative’s direction.

Simmons was just grateful that the innkeeper had assured them there were two beds this time, his face practically on fire and his heart hammering away in his chest as he recalled the last room sharing experience.

Since they hadn’t been there during the room arrangement debate, Tucker and Washington would also be sharing a room together.  Honestly, Simmons was starting to wonder what was actually taking them so long in getting there.  He almost missed Tucker’s “ _bow-chicka-bow-wow!_ ” comment that would have no doubt been there during check-in.

The last room left was the one that Sarge had called “dibs” on for both himself and Lopez.  The construct seemed both annoyed at having to share the space with his creator, but also relieved that he wasn’t stuck with Donut and the others.  Lopez’s mood seemed to brighten considerably when Sheila reminded him that she would be just across the hall.

Grif stood in the crowded, small space that served as the inn’s lobby waiting until the voices died down before stating, “I say we get some dinner and head to bed.”

Sarge frowned, harrumphing, “Of course you would, dirt bag.  Your laziness knows no bounds!  But, some of us think more strategizing is in order.”

The Orc raised an eyebrow lazily, “We already know how tomorrow’s going to play out.”

Simmons frowned, “I—I don’t know, Grif.  Sarge might have a point!”

Grif rolled his eyes, “ _Of course_ you’d say that, Simmons.” He then quickly muttered under his breath, “Kiss-ass.”

Simmons glared right back at him, “Fat-ass.”

“Oh no. No es otra escupidora de los amantes. ¿Por qué no vas a tu habitación y lo haces oficialmente?”  _{“Oh no.  Not another lovers' spat.  Why don't you both go to your room and make it fucking official?”}_

Before anyone else could try to attempt responding to whatever it was that Lopez had said in exasperation, there was a loud coughing sound from the still open doorway.  The group turned in unison towards the inn’s entrance to stare at the newcomer.

A dark-skinned young man stood there with orange trim on his armor and the most ridiculous multi-colored hair that Simmons had ever seen.  It was as if a bunch of different dyes had been poured on top of his head all at once.

“You _are_ Grif, right?” The stranger’s dark eyes were focused on the Orc standing right next to Simmons, “You probably don’t remember me—“

“Bitters.” Grif said exasperatedly, even as he had taken on a surprisingly serious stance as Simmons felt a momentary wave of both wariness and shock coming from him ( _fucking Linking Magic!_ ), “Yeah, I remember.”

Simmons gulped nervously as he and the others glanced around at one another.  Based on how this interaction was going, it seemed likely that there was only one way that the two knew one another.

_Charon._

Simmons had almost forgotten about Grif’s past connection to the group, knowing how painful a subject it was for the Orc to bring up now given all that they had learned about the organization.  Subconsciously, he moved closer to Grif but stopped before actually touching him.  The Orc glanced towards Simmons before his eyes darted back to the newcomer in their midst.

Bitters looked at the ground for a moment and took a deep breath.  When he looked up at Grif once more, there was a determined look in his eyes: “I fucking need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> South and C.T. have run into Tucker and Wash, and Bitters is approaching Grif and company about help. Plus, Kimball doesn’t really hate having tea with Doyle either! Things are definitely starting to pick up. :) I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I am really looking forward to the next one!
> 
> Oh, and I will refrain from spoilers, but Season 15 has just officially made my week! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

David Washington continued to stand between Lavernius Tucker and his two former Freelancer teammates, as if hoping to shield the younger man should it turn out they were up to something. “What, exactly, are you doing here?” He demanded, even surprising _himself_ with the icy edge that had creeped into his voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, the blond could see Tucker stiffen slightly, confusedly caught off-guard by Washington’s tone as well. Washington tried to ignore the Beast Folk for the moment, knowing he couldn’t let his guard down around the two females in front of him.

C.T. was only momentarily taken aback by Washington’s threatening question, a look of infuriating understanding crossing over her features mere seconds later. She remained silent, no doubt still assessing the situation in her mind. South, however, seemed to be getting more amused by her former teammate’s antics by the second.

“Oh relax, _Wash_.” South told him with a smirk on her face, “If we were here to actually attack, you know there’s nothing you could do to stop us.” She raised an eyebrow, “Or do you _not_ remember every training session _ever_?”

Washington felt rather than saw Tucker’s intake of breath, could _sense_ the teal-wearing man’s questioning dark eyes on his back. Suddenly, he desperately wanted to move the conversation along.

The Seas huffed in annoyance at South’s reminder of his rookie days, choosing instead to focus his next line of questioning at his childhood friend, “What _is_ going on here, C.T.?” He questioned, eyes narrowing, “Is the Insurrection involved or not?”

South glanced between the two in surprised confusion then, no doubt having suspected that the _“naïve rookie”_ Washington hadn’t been aware of C.T.’s activities since Freelancer’s demise. Tucker had stilled and was listening intently now too, obviously having picked up on the larger picture that was forming thanks to Washington’s questioning.

If C.T. herself was surprised by Washington’s directness, she didn’t show it. Instead, brown eyes focused on him as she nodded her head in slight confirmation, “Yes, there is an alliance between them and Charon now.”

Washington frowned at her answer. From behind, he could hear Tucker swear _“Fuck!”_ under his breath. The Seas couldn’t help but note that the brunette wasn’t including herself in her explanation, as if her actions differed from that of the Insurrection.

The reason as to why that was became apparent with C.T.’s next words, as she took a tentative step forwards. She didn’t react when Washington stepped back. “But believe me, Wash, I am trying to fix things.” She told him emphatically, “South and maybe even Florida are also trying to do the same.”

South scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “Well, I can’t say what that walking blue question mark is up too. But, I’m here for that shit, I guess. At least until something better pops up.”

C.T. ignored South’s remark, eyes still focused on Washington, “I just need to get to the prisoners, and the best timing for that will be during the tournament.” She glanced at Tucker before he could even open his mouth, “I know that the Guild has a similar idea, so I think it would be in all of our best interests to work together.”

“Well, shit. Can’t exactly argue with that logic.” Tucker muttered behind him, and Washington couldn’t really logically disagree even though he wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there.

Going at a mission like this with more allies on hand was a sound strategy, especially ones with a clear door to the _“inside,”_ so to speak. But still, that didn’t mean that he had to _like_ it. Washington finally nodded his head in reluctant agreement, and C.T.’s expression softened into a relieved one.

“Well, I guess that takes care of that?” South remarked, turning so that she was calling over her orchid-armored shoulder when she spoke next, “Guess I’ll be seeing you at the tournament, assholes. You better be ready.”

Then she walked off as C.T. gave a slight uneasy smile and a wave before following after her. That just left Tucker and Washington standing in uncomfortable silence. Washington’s mind was still trying to process what exactly had occurred, until Tucker decided to break it.

“What the fuck was that about?” Tucker finally exploded, “Were those two chicks friends of yours or what? Because they were hot in a really intimidating-as-fuck way.”

Washington sighed, “They were. Once.” He shook his head, “Now, I don’t know _what_ to call them. Also, I wouldn’t let either of them hear you say that. Ever.”

Tucker squinted his eyes in the direction that the two women had wandered off towards, “So, they’re kind of like how you view Carolina and the other guys at the Guild?” He questioned, a thoughtful frown on his features.

“With those two? It’s probably even more complicated than that, Tucker.” The former Freelancer told him at length.

Tucker rolled his eyes, “Well, yeah. I got that when you mentioned the fucking Insurrection. Now we have to deal with those assholes on top of everything else? Bullshit, dude!”

Washington couldn’t keep his shoulders from slumping a bit at Tucker’s comment. To his surprise, Tucker reached over and patted his right shoulder sympathetically, “Sorry that you keep having to deal with this shit, man.”

Washington inhaled sharply, surprised at how much the simple gesture, one that the dark-skinned man probably hadn’t put more than two seconds of thought into, meant to him just then, “It…it can’t be helped.”

Tucker frowned once more, but nodded his head in understanding all the same, “Think we can trust them?” He finally asked.

Washington answered truthfully, “I can’t say for certain. We’ll just have to get through this on our side, regardless.”

“Fuck yeah! That’s the spirit, Washington!” Tucker agreed wholeheartedly, a grin suffusing his features.

Washington couldn’t help but smile back, “We probably should head to the inn now.”

Tucker’s face fell at the reminder, “Ugh, dude, don’t remind me. We totally missed the room assignments.”

Washington raised an eyebrow, “And that’s an issue because…?”

Tucker looked at the Seas as though he were an idiot, “Because Grif is an asshole when it comes to revenge? Odds are good we’ll be in a room with one bed.”

“Oh.” Washington felt his face heat up, “I—I see!”

Tucker let out a long suffering sigh, “Don’t worry, dude, if that happens I’ll just sleep on the floor or some shit.”

“You don’t have to…” Washington began, though he couldn’t help but trail off when he realized how that sounded.

Both men glanced away from one another awkwardly then, red-faced. All things considered, a part of Washington wouldn’t really have minded sharing a bed with Tucker at all. It was probably best for the blond not to focus on why that was right now though.

*****

“…That’s about everything.” Antoine Bitters finished his explanation, looking around the room carefully. The hardened expression on his face dared anyone to say something negative regarding what he had just told them as he eyed the Guild traveling party currently in a shitty Rat’s Nest inn.

The group had moved to the largest room they were staying at so that everybody could fit. It also allowed them to get away from any prying eyes and listening ears. Silence filled the inn room as everyone in the Guild’s party processed what the Charon guard had just told them.

Dexter Grif frowned from his spot on one of the beds beside Richard “Dick” Simmons, Franklin Delano Donut, Frank “Doc” DuFresne, and John Elizabeth Andersmith. There was no way that the Orc could deny Charon’s involvement in the kidnappings anymore, especially since he knew Bitters well enough to trust that the kid was telling the truth.

Knowing that he had once worked for the very same assholes who had now kidnapped his little sister pissed Grif off to no end. He could sense Simmons’ worried glances his way. The chubby man tried his hardest to school his expressions and feelings into more neutral ones so as to not make the nerd anymore anxious than he no doubt already was. Not that it took much to make the kiss-ass a ball of nerves.

Andersmith spoke up first, “So, the people who were kidnapped are safe?” No doubt the dark-haired man was thinking of his ward, Katie Jensen.

Bitters nodded, “They’re being held for transfer to somewhere else immediately after the tournament though.” He replied, a look of resignation on his face.

“Hmm.” Sarge said, looking surprisingly thoughtful just then as he turned towards Bitters, “Any idea where to?”

The young human with multi-colored hair smiled humorlessly, “I’m not high enough on the payroll to be told that sort of thing.”

“Así que nuestra mejor opción para liberarlos es en algún momento durante el torneo.” _{“So our best bet to free them is at some point during the tournament.”}_

Donut shook his head at whatever it was he thought the artificially constructed man had just said, “No, Lopez. I think that means that the tournament is our best bet for gaining some head.”

“...¿Por qué me molesto?” _{“…Why do I even bother?”}_

As Sheila patted Lopez’s shoulder consolingly, Bitters nodded his head in agreement to Donut’s assessment, “That’s what I figured too. Everyone’s attention will be focused on it.” He told them.

“But why, exactly, do you want to help break them out in the first place?” Leonard Church demanded from his spot next to Michael J. Caboose on the floor, “No offense, but it seems like a dumb-as-fuck career move.”

“It’s a monumentally stupid one.” Bitters agreed, frowning, “But I guess you could say I’ve been thinking about a fucking career change.”

Grif couldn’t blame Bitters for that. Having known the kid for a while, he knew the young man wasn’t the type to be involved in shit like kidnapping.

“Well, thanks to your information we’ll know exactly where to look for them.” Doc stated happily, “That is definitely good news!”

Caboose nodded his head in earnest agreement, “Yes, it will be like hide and seek! But, with clues! The best way to play ever!”

Bitters smiled ruefully, “Though the truth is, by coming here, I probably fucked up being there to help you guys any further.”

“What do you mean?” Grif asked, a note of disappointment in his voice. After all, it would be advantageous to have someone working with them on the inside of the fortress. Any less work on their end was a win in the Orc’s mind.

Bitters frowned, “I came here when I saw you, _after_ I had been ordered to go on a _“loyalty”_ run.” He explained.

Understanding slowly seeped into the room. “They wanted you to bring back another Magic User.” Doctor Emily Grey noted, her usually cheerful voice surprisingly subdued.

The man with multi-colored hair nodded angrily, “Since I didn’t, that means I’m out of the fucking club.”

From the frown on his face and his tone of voice, Bitters didn’t seem too happy at the prospect of missing out on further helping the kidnapped Magic Users. In a way, Grif could understand. If he was close to truly helping Kai, but was suddenly unable to do more? Well, that would fucking suck.

“Not necessarily, son.” Sarge spoke up then, “In fact, we could use your _“loyalty”_ run to our advantage.”

Church raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

The older man smirked, “We plant some of our own Magic Users in the prison. Help coordinate the breakout from the inside.”

Grif couldn’t help but whistle appreciatively, “Not a bad strategy, Sarge.”

The red-wearing man harrumphed, “Just because you don’t listen, numbnuts, doesn’t mean I don’t have good ideas from time to time.”

Charles Palomo and Volleyball looked over at one another before nodding their heads in silent agreement. “Sir?” Volleyball stated, lifting up her hand, “We’d like to volunteer for the mission, if that’s all right.”

“Yeah!” Palomo chimed in, “It’ll be fun!”

Volleyball shot him a pointed look, shaking her blond head in exasperation.

“Are you sure, you two?” Sarge asked, “This won’t be a walk in the park.”

Palomo grinned, “Oh, we’re sure! Leave it to us!”

“We fit closer to the profiles for many of the people who have been abducted already, so we wouldn’t raise too many suspicions.” The blonde reasoned, although she didn’t try to match Palomo’s joyous expression.

Sarge nodded his gray-haired head, a grim expression on his features, “That is true. Just be careful, all right?”

The two Guild trainees saluted, “Of course we will, sir!” Volleyball and Palomo said at the same time, both trying to reassure the others but failing miserably.

It wasn’t long following that exchange that Bitters, Palomo, and Volleyball left the inn. After all, it wouldn’t do for the plan to have Bitters’ Charon cohorts get suspicious because of a prolonged absence.

With their plans now solidly set in motion, everyone in the traveling party began drifting off to rest and prepare for tomorrow. Grif was definitely grateful for that, especially since he felt like he could really use a stiff drink.

*****

After perusing the items in his satchel for what was probably the eleventh time since the meeting with Bitters had ended, Simmons tossed the pack aside and looked around the empty inn room.

Grif had opted to go back downstairs to the inn’s tavern. The Orc hadn’t returned in quite some time, a fact that was starting to make the redhead even _more_ nervous than he already was. Simmons sighed, deciding it was time to go and find his friend.

_“They’re going to be fine, Washington. Trust me.”_ He overheard Tucker’s voice in the hallway as he opened the door to his and Grif’s shared room, _“They’re well-trained and more than capable of taking care of themselves.”_

The Beast Folk had his back to Simmons, so the Magic User saw Tucker’s tail swishing back and forth as he spoke. He also saw the gray and yellow-tinged Seas that Tucker was speaking to frown, “But they are still just kids.” Washington muttered, clearly perturbed by the situation at hand.

Ah, so it looked like Tucker and Washington had learned from some of the others what had happened with Volleyball and Palomo then. Simmons wasn’t sure that he wanted to interrupt their debate, so he tried exiting and closing the door to the room as quietly as he could.

Unfortunately, the soft thud was still loud enough to catch both men’s attention, and Simmons’ face flushed apologetically at having interrupted their conversation.

“Can’t sleep, Simmons?” Washington inquired politely enough, both him and Tucker seeming oddly relieved at the momentary interruption.

“Um, something like that.” Simmons scratched the back of his head nervously, “Have either of you seen Grif?”

At the mention of the Orc’s name, both men glanced at the door they were standing next to at the exact same time. Simmons swore that they were both blushing for some reason.

“Your boyfriend’s down at the bar, no doubt laughing at our expense.” Tucker informed the human and, while _that_ comment made Simmons rather curious, he had a sneaking suspicion that neither the feline Beast Folk nor the Seas would elaborate any further as they turned to regard the offending door once more.

So, Simmons promptly thanked them for the information and headed down the inn’s stairs towards its eatery. Sure enough, there was Grif. The orange-armored man was seated by himself at a table surrounded by empty bottles of ale. He looked up at Simmons hovering over him, raising his half-empty glass in a mock sort of salute.

“Hey, Simmons,” Grif stated, his voice only somewhat slurred, “Wanna drink?”

Simmons couldn’t help the twitch he felt in his eyebrow just then as he sat down across from the Orc, a frown on his face, “Isn’t this a _really_ bad time to be getting drunk?”

Grif looked amused at Simmons’ lecture, “This is really only enough to get me slightly buzzed.” He informed the redhead matter-of-factly.

Simmons’ frown deepened as his green eyes glanced over the many empty bottles. Sure, he had forgotten that Orc physiology was different from that of a human’s. But, still…

“Besides,” Grif continued before Simmons could protest further, “Orcs don’t get hangovers, so I’ll _still_ be all set for tomorrow.”

Simmons wasn’t sure _what_ exactly to say to that either. He wasn’t a fan of their plan at all, truth be told. The whole thing was stressing him out even more than usual.

“I needed a few drinks, after what’s happened.” Grif mumbled into his glass a few minutes later, as if wanting to fill the silence that had descended upon them.

Suddenly, he was hit by a foreign feeling of regret and Simmons understood. He shifted in his seat to get the Orc’s undivided attention, “What’s happened isn’t something you could have known about, Grif.”

Grif harrumphed, “You weren’t the one willing to turn a blind eye just because you needed coin.”

Simmons shook his head, “No, but your heart was in the right place all the same. You were just trying to look out for your sister.”

The chubby man smiled rather self-deprecatingly, “And look at what good _that_ did.”

“We’re going to get her back, and you’ll be helping that Bitters kid make amends too.” Simmons tried reassuring him.

“…Maybe.” Grif still looked rather doubtful, but he apparently wasn’t going to elaborate any further.

Simmons sighed and stood up, gripping onto Grif’s shoulder as he did so, “At any rate, I think it’s time you got some rest. For tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Grif stood up from the table rather shakily, leaning into Simmons’ touch as he did so.

For a moment, they both stood there, immobile. Grif’s eyes had landed on Simmons’ hand on his shoulder. With an unreadable expression on his face, the Orc suddenly reached up with his own hand to gently pry Simmons’ off only to hold the appendage in the space between them.

“Hey, Simmons?” Grif muttered seriously, dark eyes still focused on their entwined hands.

“Y—yeah?” Simmons’ voice barely came out a squeak, the redhead suddenly grateful that Grif was paying attention to their hands and not noticing how red-faced the maroon-wearing man had gotten.

Grif squeezed Simmons’ fingers gently, “I’m glad you’re here.” He murmured before finally letting his hand go.

“M—me too, Grif.” Simmons’ face was practically on fire as they made their way towards the stairs.

When they got to the upper level, Simmons found that Tucker and Washington were no longer standing in the hallway. However, Sarge and Doctor Grey _were_. The two were giggling conspiratorially like a couple of teenagers, arms wrapped tightly around the other as they leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching.

Grif and Simmons both looked at one another and made a hasty retreat to their room before things got _too_ hot and heavy in the hallway. Their eyes could only take so much torture in one day.

*****

_Simmons was back in Valhalla, once again showing Grif one of his favorite spots in the city. It was the park grounds along a crystal-blue lake. A waterfall even farther away was casting a reflected rainbow on the clear, liquid surface._

_When Simmons wasn’t holed up on the Magic Division grounds and when he wanted to leave the harassing guards behind, if only for a minute or two, he’d sneak away to here. …Fuck, he had even done it when he had just needed to get away from home for a while as a small boy. When his mother’s sad looks and his father’s disapproving stares became too much to bear._

_No one was around, which seemed a bit odd to Simmons considering how crowded most areas of the city were, but he preferred it that way. No one was staring at Grif because he was an Orc, and the redhead didn’t have to worry about one of the guards looking for him right then and there._

_It was only the two of them, and everything just felt…_ right _._

_Simmons was pointing excitedly to the waterfall and rambling on about its history, a bright smile splitting his face, when he turned his head again slightly and caught Grif’s eye._

_The Orc was smiling back at him without his usual teasing smirk. There was an oddly intense look darkening his features as he regarded Simmons’ face._

_Whatever Simmons had been thinking of saying next died on his lips as Grif leaned over and suddenly his chapped ones were on his own. The kiss was tentative at first. Gentle. But, then it became rough and more insistent._

_Grif’s hands gripped onto Simmons’ waist as the redhead kissed him just as desperately back. He guided Simmons to the lush grass below, fingers moving playfully under Simmons’ shirt as he did so._

_Simmons gasped as Grif moved his head slightly, taking special care to kiss the sides of the human’s face and even his scarred ears. Grif pulled away to stare down at the other man with a look of sheer_ longing _that took Simmons’ breath away._

_“Simmons.”_

_Suddenly, Grif was placing kisses down his throat, hands fumbling with the belt around Simmons’ waist…_

Simmons woke up with a gasp and a start, his green eyes flaring open before struggling to see anything in the darkness that enveloped him.

He was back in the inn at Rat’s Nest, lying down on his bed. Grif was sleeping on his own just a few meters away. Simmons watched the rise and fall of the Orc’s chest, his heated face readily cooling in the night air.

It had just been a dream. It didn’t mean anything. But, as Simmons turned around to lie back down on his side, he heard _it_.

A _moan_ , loud and deep, coming from Grif’s bed. The redhead paused. Surely it was a coincidence. There was no fucking way…

_“Simmons.”_ Grif’s voice was breathy, urgent.

The lanky man’s face became about as hot as the sun just then. Had he and Grif been dreaming the same thing? Fuck. Stupid Linking Magic! Who…who had dreamed it first?

Simmons shook his head and tried to stop his heart from pounding right out of his chest. What he _should_ be wondering was how he would ever be able to face Grif again. He prayed that the upcoming mission tomorrow would hopefully provide a bit of a distraction, if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the fact that I cannot write steamier scenes to save my life. XD Sorry about that! It looks like things are starting to pick up in more ways than one, and the _“tournament”_ will officially get underway in the next chapter! :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading the story so far! :D


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

With a contented yawn, Dexter Grif awoke to the sight of an incredibly red-faced and all too tired-looking Richard “Dick” Simmons. The Orc smiled at him haphazardly, still too drowsy himself to really notice Simmons’ predicament. All he knew was that an embarrassed Simmons was one hell of an easy target to make fun of. A guy had to get his kicks somewhere, doesn’t he?

Suddenly, Simmons regretted that he had decided to stay in the room until the chubby man awoke. If he had just made a run for the door like his anxious nerves had screamed at him to do, he wouldn’t be in this situation!

“What’s wrong?” Grif teased while stretching orange-lined arms over his head, “Didn’t sleep well?” He smirked, an odd sort-of blush crossing over his features as he no doubt remembered his dream from the night before, “I slept great!”

Simmons could not have prevented the heat washing over his face at that remark even if he had tried. _I…I bet you did!_ He thought, but didn’t dare say out loud as memories of the partially shared dream came flooding back to him, unbidden.

“I…I’m glad.” Was all Simmons managed to squeak out instead, too embarrassed to ask if Grif knew that the redhead had shared his vision.

It had all felt so _real_ too. Damn it! He shouldn’t be dwelling on it any more than he had. After all, the seemingly endless hours he had stayed up last night reminiscing about the dream really should be enough. His brain just didn’t know when to call it fucking quits sometime. Right now, Simmons certainly shouldn’t be imagining Grif’s feverish hands on his all too equally hot pale skin…

The maroon-wearing man’s racing thoughts must have been evident on his face just then, because Grif was now suddenly more alert and looking at him in genuine concern. “Are you okay?” He finally asked, “Because, joking aside, you really do look like you didn’t get any sleep. No offense, but you kind of look like shit.”

_Whose fault do you think_ that _is, fat-ass?_

But, Simmons couldn’t bring himself to say that out loud, especially thinking back on all of the _moaning_ that had come from Grif’s side of the room. The truth was that he almost, _almost_ found himself regretting that his part in the dream had been cut so short. Instead, he tried focusing on an equally, if not more, urgent matter. One that wouldn’t result in his head catching on fire in embarrassment.

“I—I do not! And, I—I’m fine!” Simmons tried reassuring the Orc while desperately looking anywhere in the inn’s room that wasn’t directly _near_ him, “I’m just nervous about the tournament today. Yeah, that’s it! The tournament!”

Which wasn’t really even a lie. At least, not entirely. It might not be the reason that Simmons was acting like a spaz case currently, but he was getting anxious about the tournament, especially as the deadline for it got closer.

Grif’s expression became serious at the reminder as to why they were in Rat’s Nest. The Orc nodded his head in understanding, “I get that, I really do.” He told Simmons emphatically, “But we’ve just got to do what it takes to take these Charon assholes down and get Kai and the others back.”

Simmons was relieved both for the change in subject as well as for seeing Grif more determined than depressed like he had been the other night. Before _it_ had happened, obviously. Damn sexy dream of his and Grif’s! His face flushed again at the reminder of the previous night before he remembered Grif’s actual words. He couldn’t help but nod his head in agreement with the Orc, “Absolutely.”

“As much as I’d love to stay in bed, let’s get a move on.” Grif was, surprisingly, already moving to the door that served as the entrance to their shared room. He opened it just as Simmons was about one step behind him, as if waiting to make sure the redhead was following his lead.

They were both greeted by the sight of Tucker and Washington standing awkwardly in the inn’s hallway. Tucker was rubbing the back of his head while Washington looked about ready to turn a shade of red that would make Sarge proud. Simmons could feel not only his own curiosity piqued, but Grif’s as well. _Damn Linking Magic!_

“Y—yeah, let’s just…umm…” Tucker began before trailing off, the Beast Folk for once seemingly at a loss for words.

“Yes. Let’s.” Washington finished for the dark-skinned man as the two quickly moved down the stairs without realizing their conversation had had witnesses.

Simmons felt apathetic amusement coming from the Orc in front of him, and when he glanced towards Grif’s face he made out a smirk. Uh-oh. That can’t be good. Simmons felt a twinge of sympathy towards Tucker and Washington, only to realize Grif had felt it too when the slightly older man directed a chilled wink his way. 

No sooner had Tucker and Washington left, then Sarge and Doctor Grey emerged from another of the inn’s rooms. The Beast Folk’s dark head of hair was momentarily resting on Sarge’s shoulder before she straightened her posture at the sight of Grif and Simmons in the hallway.

“Boys.” Sarge greeted the two gaping men as if this was all to be expected, nodding his gray head of hair. There was a literal _bounce_ to the older man’s step and both Grif and Simmons suddenly felt nauseous.

Doctor Grey smiled at them, “See you downstairs soon, yes?” There was an amused, almost maniacal gleam in her dark eyes as her fox tail twitched in delight.

The crazy couple had already disappeared out of view when Sheila and Lopez emerged from their room. The artificially constructed man actually _hummed_ as they walked by, hand-in-hand.

Grif turned his head slightly so that he could fully stare at Simmons in bewilderment, “What the fuck is up with this hallway?”

“B—beats me!” Simmons felt his face going even hotter, and he desperately tried not thinking of last night again.

Fortunately, Grif was an expert at keeping things grounded. The heavyset man shrugged and let out an exasperated sigh, “Come on. Let’s get downstairs before anyone else we know walks out here in a pair. I’m starving.”

Simmons agreed with the first sentiment, though he rolled his eyes at the second, “You’re always hungry, fat-ass.”

“It’s the only thing worth getting out of bed for, Simmons.” Grif told him in a pseudo-sage voice.

Just this once, Simmons was grateful for how quickly Grif could get him to fall back into their usual routine. Not that he’d ever tell the Orc that. Instead, he rolled his eyes and made his way towards the stairs.

*****

Kaikaina Grif couldn’t help but roll her eyes when everyone’s favorite jackass with a bad dye job came once more into the dungeon area. Only, her mood sharpened to serious when she noticed that the human was with another guard.

The duo were dragging along two rather beat up-looking people between them. One was a blonde and the other was a dark-skinned guy. Kai didn’t recognize either of them, so she assumed they were just unlucky assholes like the rest of them.

Without so much as a word, Bitters did a sweep-over of their cells with his brown eyes. The jerk in orange-trimmed armor noticeably lingered on the unresponsive Matthews in concern before he motioned to the cell closest to Kai’s own. The other guard forcibly shoved the hot blonde chick into the cell, and Kai couldn’t help but feel a bit proud when she glared defiantly at the guard.

The dark-skinned young man that was with the blonde was put in a cell right next to Jensen’s, stumbling to the ground at the none-too-gentle push he received. The clang of cell doors rang loudly through the dungeon.

“Good job, Bitters.” The nobody-fucking-cared-what-his-name-was guard said, “That will get the bosses off our backs for a little while.”

Bitters made a noncommittal noise, and the two left without so much as a backwards glance at the cell occupants.

Kai couldn’t help but roll her eyes once more after the guards had left, “What assholes.” She muttered under her breath.

And here Filss had been talking about how they could possibly trust that Bitters guy too. He didn’t fucking seem any better than the rest of these douchebags. At least from what she could tell. Grif always said she was a horrible judge of character, but fuck that! The half-Orc knew bitches when she saw them.

“Ow!” One of the newcomers expressed loudly. When Kai turned towards the voice, she saw that it had been the young human with aqua trim on his clothes. He was rubbing his knees in response to their painful impact on the floor moments before.

“Are you all right?” Jensen asked him in concern, brown eyes alight with sympathy.

The dark-skinned man grinned up at the brunette brightly, “I’m okay!” He said reassuringly, though he paused after getting a closer look at her face, “Hey! It’s _you_!”

“Er…” Jensen was clearly confused by the stranger’s statement, “Yes?”

“You’re Katie Jensen, right?” The young man continued, “Andersmith is looking for you!”

Recognition clicked on the tanned girl’s face at the obviously familiar name, “He _is_?”

The blonde glanced over at Kai and Four Seven Niner then, “And you are the sisters of Grif and Caboose respectively, yes?”

“What are you two? _Cops_?” Kai couldn’t help but narrow her eyes suspiciously as she spoke, “How the fuck do you know that?”

The hot blonde laughed, “Relax. We’re trainees from the Guild.”

Jensen seemed to visibly be put at ease by the new information, and Kai even saw Matthews lift his head slightly in curiosity at the newcomers. Figured they’d both be Guild fans. Kai wasn’t so easily convinced, “Big deal. So, you’re rookie cops.”

The young man’s stupid grin was back on his face, and the Guild trainee was practically beaming as brightly as the sun in the dank and mold-filled dungeon as he exclaimed: “Don’t worry! We’re here to rescue you!”

Silence followed that proclamation for a good long while until Four Seven Niner cleared her throat behind her locked cell door, “Well, you’re doing a bang-up job of it so far.”

*****

Following Grif’s fourth breakfast, Lavernius Tucker was treated to an amusing aside in which Church had turned to his cousin and said _“You sure know how to pick them.”_ Which, in turn, had resulted in an equally amusing scene of Simmons promptly turning red as he told Church to shut the fuck up.

With the early morning amusements out of the way, everyone in the Guild’s traveling party gathered in front of the Rat’s Nest inn. They were more or less ready to head to the tournament, some visibly more excited than others.

Tucker, as he watched Caboose lively waving Freckles around and regaling Andersmith with the tale of how he had found the talking gun in the first place, was rather grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. After all, his mind was circling around having woken up to Washington petting his head yet _again_. He was willing to chalk it up to the blond’s nerves this time, but this shit was getting ridiculous! The Seas wasn’t exactly the type of hot chick that Tucker wanted to pet him, if you get his meaning. _Bow-chicka-bow-wow!_

“I…I’m still not sure if I’m ready to be out in the ring.” Doc was saying to Donut, the two having stepped over towards Tucker to talk privately, “As a pacifist, it goes against my beliefs to…!”

Tucker couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the continued protest and also at the duo’s obliviousness to the fact that the Beast Folk was literally standing _right there_ and could overhear everything, “Think of it more as helping out with the rescue mission, Doc.” He advised, rubbing his temple out of annoyance.

The healer frowned, “But…!”

“Tucker’s right, Doc!” Donut chimed in exuberantly before the flower-crown wearing man could say more, “Think about how you’ll be helping to aid people in really big trouble instead. Why, you’ll be coming around in no time. You’re being really heroic!”

_That_ seemed to do the trick and bolster Doc’s nerves a bit. Tucker had to give Donut credit. The pink-wearing man was a kick-ass motivational speaker, even if he was saying weird-as-fuck shit along with it.

The traveling party slowly started making their way to the tournament grounds, Tucker’s own growing nerves being rather bolstered by the large group of comrades that he had around him. Not that he would ever say that out loud, mind you. They were all assholes still, after all.

“Hey, bitches.” A familiar voice said from off to the side, “Took you long enough.”

The group all glanced in the voice’s direction to find South Dakota standing there, arms crossed over her orchid-armored chest. She looked largely unimpressed at the group assembled before her, as if they weren’t anything to be concerned with.

“ _Wash_.” South said, smirking in the former Freelancer’s direction before turning to incline her head towards Tucker, “Wash’s boy toy.”

Tucker felt his face heat up at the comment as memories of last night resurfaced. The teal-wearing man could tell that Washington was close to blushing as well. Still, with a lot of effort, the Seas had managed to school his expression into a neutral one.

“Who are you, little lady?” Sarge asked after shooting Washington and Tucker a questioning glance, a gray eyebrow raised in curiosity as one of his hands reflexively moved towards his shotgun.

He could see the rest of the group look around in what was akin to morbid fascination, although Grif mostly just looked bored as hell. Obviously, the identity of the woman with orchid highlights in her hair was something that all of the others were curious about too. Well, all save Church, who scowled at the newcomer’s presence and muttered _“Aww, shit. Not her too.”_ under his breath. Tucker shook his head at Church’s comment, deciding that he was going to dub all this shit _“Freelancer problems”_ from now on.

“First of all, old man, I wouldn’t call me that again. It wouldn’t be good for your health.” South informed Sarge without missing a beat, “Second of all, I am clearly you lot’s best bet for making it through this tournament in one piece.”

Everyone turned to Washington for confirmation on what she had just said, and the Seas shifted uncomfortably on his webbed feet at the sudden attention, “South is an old acquaintance of mine. She’ll be…assisting us.”

Tucker noticed how cautious Washington was with his wording and frowned. The blond obviously didn’t believe what he was saying. But, it seemed like the others bought it, so the Beast Folk opted not to say anything about Washington’s hesitation. At least not in front of everyone else. After all, Doc looked like he was about to faint as it was and Simmons’ anxiety had turned him even paler than normal.

South’s smirk only widened at Washington’s introduction, “That’s right,” she said, “And you fuckers _better_ not slow me down.”

*****

Infiltrating the Charon guard ranks at the Rat’s Nest tournament grounds was a relatively easy enough task for both Carolina and Tex. Carolina could begrudgingly admit that they made for a frighteningly good team when they actually choose to work together. It seemed that today, however, the ease at which they had carried out their assignment was largely due to how minimal security seemed to be around where the _“main event”_ was going to be held.

As they explored the premises, it became noticeably obvious that the majority of Charon’s guards were located elsewhere, despite the tournament having many skilled and violent participants who could be deemed as threats.

“The ruins by the village has the highest concentration of security forces.” Carolina noted as the two women stood side-by-side against a stone wall that gave them a good vantage point.

“Which means there’s more to the area than it just being a place to temporarily store Magic Users.” Tex muttered, nodding her head slightly in agreement to what Carolina had observed, “They wouldn’t have this much security just for that.”

“I’d say that’s true enough.” Carolina stated quietly, a contemplative frown crossing over her features. _Just what the hell was Charon and the Insurrection up to?_

“You’d both be right too.” An all-too familiar voice spoke up from their left.

Both women spun around to see who had managed to get the drop on them, not at all shocked to find C.T. standing there. When it came to subterfuge in Project Freelancer, the brunette had always been one of the best.

“Carolina. Tex.” She said as she nodded her head in their direction, “It’s good to see you again.”

There was no malice in their former teammate’s words, but Tex stepped forward with fists clenched at her sides all the same. “And what, exactly, are you doing here?” The blonde demanded as Carolina got into a readied stance herself.

“Relax.” C.T. held up her hands as if in surrender, “I’m not here to fight old acquaintances or blow your cover.”

Tex and Carolina shared a look, their stances not relaxing in the slightest. “No offense,” Carolina finally said, “But I seem to recall you having no problem fighting us before.”

“True enough, but that’s not what I’m doing now.” C.T. explained, taking the fact that they hadn’t moved yet as a sign to continue, “I want to find out what exactly Charon is storing in these ruins too.” She told them emphatically, “And I want to put a stop to anything heinous going on. Such as kidnapping, for instance.”

The two other women both looked at one another again, Carolina’s attack stance relaxing by a margin as she asked, “How much do you actually know about what is going on here, C.T.?”

C.T. smiled thinly, “Enough to make working together again extremely worthwhile. For all of us.”

*****

The Guild’s traveling party, with South in tow, made their way to the large, expansive tournament grounds just outside of the village of Rat’s Nest and close by the ruins. The same ruins where they knew that Charon was keeping the kidnapped Magic Users.

Dexter Grif schooled his face into its normal apathetic expression, but inside he was roaring to save his sister and the others. His Orc blood was practically bubbling, and he had to remind himself he had an _“I don’t give a shit”_ reputation to maintain.

Right now, everyone was assembled in the giant fighters’ pit erected specifically for the tournament. The non-participants were getting ready to move into the viewing stands located directly behind the arena, though currently they remained to offer the others their well-wishes and support.

From next to where Doc was talking to Donut, and near where Caboose was animatedly saying something encouraging to Andersmith, Simmons watched Grif swing his staff in a few practice arcs.

“I—I can participate too, you know!” Simmons exclaimed to the Orc, trying once again in vain to convince Grif to let him join the tournament too.

“Drop it, Simmons,” Grif replied as he simply shook his dark-haired head for the umpteenth time that Simmons had brought the subject up since they had made their way from the inn, “It is not gonna happen.”

For starters, the orange-armored man _really_ didn’t want to see the redheaded human get hurt, especially since he knew that the kiss-ass still wasn’t the best under pressure. Besides, Simmons’ healing magic ability would prove more useful _after_ the fight than during it.

“But…!” Simmons tried protesting again, but both Doctor Grey and Church were suddenly on either side of the maroon-wearing man and gently leading him away towards the stands.

“Grif is right.” Grif heard the Beast Folk woman say, “We have to get ready to cheer them on from the sidelines.”

That’s right. It was only going to be once the tournament was underway that they would commence their part of the plan. It needed to look like they were participating just like everybody else, which meant their friends in the spectator crowd needed to be just as convincing.

“Your Orc boy toy’s going to be fine, so stop worrying.” Church told his sputtering cousin in his own comforting way.

“Even if he isn’t, the two of us can get him right as rain in no time!” Doctor Grey nodded her head in agreement, “Provided he isn’t horribly injured or fatally wounded!”

Grif wasn’t quite sure what to make of how cheerful she sounded at those particular prospects, suddenly wondering just how much of that exuberance towards his hypothetical harm was due to Doctor Grey’s own craziness or Sarge’s influence. He guessed it easily could have been a combination of both.

“But…!” Simmons attempted again, but whatever he said next was lost to Grif’s ears as the three got further away from the fighters’ pit.

Grif visibly relaxed when he saw Simmons and the others make their way to the spectators’ viewing stands, grateful that he could still make out the human’s red hair from far away. He turned his head just then to see Tucker grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

“What?” Grif asked, already regretting it when he saw the expression on his friend’s face.

“Oh, nothing.” Tucker replied as his shit-eating grin only widened, “I just think it’s cute how you show you care.”

Grif’s face became rather warm as he muttered a quick, _“I fucking don’t. Shut up, Tucker.”_ under his breath at the feline Beast Folk.

Mere moments later, a brown-haired man with slightly pointed ears and wearing steel armor with orange trim sauntered into the middle of the arena as though he owned the place. Everyone became quiet at his presence. The man seemed to be pleased with the attention, throwing a dagger up and down in the air as if toying with the weapon. Grif didn’t doubt the man knew how to fight. His very aura seemed to thrive at the prospect of violence. Whoever he was, he was dangerous.

“Quite the impressive turn out for a free-for-all.” The newcomer stated in a loud, jovial voice, “This is going to determine who among you is ready to be new recruits for Charon.” The man paused as if for dramatic effect before continuing, throwing the dagger once more and catching it before continuing, “Whoever survives the next round, or who at least stays conscious throughout it, will be given a grand tour of our facilities. Oh, and a good share of treasure to boot.”

Dude obviously liked to hear himself talk. There was cheering from the tournament participants at that and Grif found himself glad that Simmons had gotten away from the rowdy crowd. He could feel a spike of anxiety that didn’t belong to him, and his eyes glanced towards a familiar redhead wearing maroon in the viewing stands. The cheers and Simmons’ anxiety lasted for a good long while before the man in steel armor with orange trim raised his hand for silence.

The speaker then snapped his fingers as he threw the dagger in the air once more, catching it just as the grinding sound of a gate being opened came from behind him. He smirked before shouting out: “Now enjoy the fucking show!”

Grif decided that, whoever that asshole was, he hated him. Possibly more than he’s hated anyone else in his entire life.

A trap door in the center of the arena opened, and a giant crab-like Plague Monster emerged from its depths. The red Relic on its head flared angrily as it snapped its claws viciously in the direction of the competitors.

_What the hell?_ Grif could feel Simmons’ anxiety flare up to mirror his own.

From next to Grif, the chubby man heard Washington mutter, “Just what kind of a tournament is this?!?”

The blond wasn’t asking anyone in particular, but his former Freelancer teammate answered all the same. There was even a smile in her voice when South responded, “The _fun_ kind.”

Before the Orc or Seas could react, she had grabbed onto both of their shoulders and roughly slammed their heads together. Grif’s world went dark just as the enormous Plague Monster was nearly on top of them.

The last thing he was aware of was someone else’s panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course that cliffhanger of an ending was too tempting to pass up! XD I am mean, haha. Have no fear though, explanations will be had in the following chapter! :D From here on out, things are going to start getting more intense for our heroes!
> 
> As always, thank you to those who take the time to read this fic! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Things happened remarkably fast following South’s surprise attack against both Grif and Washington. Truth be told, Lavernius Tucker’s first instinctual reaction had been to spin around and yell at the pale blonde until his throat was raw. But, that would have been an action that Washington would no doubt describe as _“ill-advised”_ with the giant, crab-like Plague Beast in their midst.

The monster was currently tossing some of their fellow competitors out of the arena like they were balled up pieces of paper, and they crumpled just as easily. Tucker groaned at the sight. This whole tournament thing was complete and utter bullshit, but like fuck was he going to mess up the chance that they had been given.

So, naturally, the Beast Folk did what was expected of him: he began kicking ass and taking charge.

“Lopez, get Grif and Wash off to the sidelines.” Tucker quickly told the artificially constructed man over the roar of their extremely agitated opponent.

“En eso.” _{“On it.”}_

The teal-wearing man had no idea _what_ Lopez had said in response to his order, but he assumed that it must have been some kind of affirmative since Lopez began to drag the two prone forms closer to the relative safety of the audience stands.

“Sarge, Caboose!” Tucker called out over his shoulder, noting that the older Guildsman in red was already laying down suppressive fire with his shotgun, “Keep pelting that thing with bullets!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Sarge practically sounded ecstatic at Tucker’s particular tactic, having already been doing just that.

“Let’s go and help the red sergeant, Freckles!” Caboose told his gun.

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

…Tucker supposed he should be fucking grateful that it wasn’t confetti that exploded out of Freckles just then. Besides, keeping the younger man in the back ranks with Sarge meant that he didn’t have to worry about the dwarf stumbling into a bad spot later on.

“Andersmith, you’re strong, right?” Tucker asked the dark-haired human, trying to remember exactly what the other man’s Magic User ability was.

“Yes, sir!” As if it was an ingrained response to having received attention, Andersmith actually _saluted_.

Tucker was never going to get used to that action being directed towards him, even with all of his time with the Guild.

“When Doc has Crabby here distracted, move in!”

The purple-wearing man grimaced at his inclusion into the plan, “Gee, guys, again…I’m really not—” Doc tried to stammer out in protest, clearly resenting his implementation in this strategy.

“Doc!” Tucker cut him off, “You’re the only one of us with an actual long-range ability here. We fucking need you!”

Doc swallowed nervously before shakily nodding his head. His tan skin was pale though, as if the purple-wearing man was fighting a wave of nausea. For a brief moment, Tucker wondered if it was possible for the Plague Beast to slip on a pile of vomit and take itself out. Stranger things have happened!

Just as the crab monster began forcing its way past the hail of bullets coming from Sarge and Caboose-carrying-Freckles, Doc held his arms out in front of him. A look of absolute concentration crossed over his features, and Tucker swore that his flower crown actually _glowed_.

Then, just as suddenly, a beam of green light filtered through the space between Doc’s hands, hitting the Plague Beast right in the center of its creepy head. The thing roared again, turning black beady eyes on Doc. But, it seemed at a loss as to which direction to go in considering that Sarge and Caboose were still shooting at it.

“G—guys?” Doc called out fearfully now that the beast’s attention was at least partially on him, “Any…any day now would be great!”

True enough. Who knew how long Doc’s literal _“flower power”_ would last, or how many bullets magical weapons really held?

The energy sword was in Tucker’s hand in a moment, the familiar heat seeping up the Beast Folk’s arm with its appearance, “Now!”

He was calling out to Andersmith and Lopez, both of whom raced forward towards the distracted target. _South_ joined the fray as well, a gigantic broadsword in her hands.

Without a word, both she and Tucker hacked at the weak spots in the creature’s armored legs while it was held in place by bullets and beams of energy. Both Lopez and Andersmith came in from the sides, hands pulled back into fists as they jumped—impacting the skull.

The combined punches and loss of balance provided by the others’ assaults caused the Plague Beast to stagger back, head tilting downwards…

…Just enough for South’s blade to slide right into the soft spot where Lopez and Andersmith’s blows had landed before. There was a wet, crunching sound as she pulled the weapon out, now covered in blood. Tucker didn’t even notice as the familiar red mist covered the vanishing corpse, a crimson Relic taking its place on the ground where it had collapsed.

No, he was seeing red for an entirely different reason altogether. Said reason was currently smirking at him like everything was fucking _peachy_.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Tucker growled out to South as the others cautiously approached now that the fight was over.

“What the fuck’s got you so worked up?” The former Freelancer demanded in turn, before flicking her eyes disinterestedly over to where it looked as if Washington and Grif were beginning to stir, “Oh, I get it.”

“You get it?” Tucker was about to launch himself at her but Sarge’s hand rested heavily on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“I think you have some explaining to do, missy.” Sarge told South gravely, the red-wearing man’s voice as pissed as Tucker had ever heard him be.

Her eyes narrowed, “Try calling me that again, old man.”

“Red sergeant is right.” Caboose spoke up quietly, “Hurting friends is bad. Unless you are trying to help, and then everyone agrees that it was most definitely not your fault.”

“Por favor, no intentes nunca ayudarme.” _{“Please, don’t ever try to help me.”}_

With all eyes on her, South stood even straighter in outright defiance.

“Look, it wasn’t anything personal. All right?” She finally got out, clearly annoyed that she even had to waste time explaining herself at all, “Tournaments are all about survival of the fittest. I was helping to ensure that I was one of the winners by thinning out the competition.”

“That’s bullshit!” Tucker said, shrugging Sarge’s hand off of his shoulder.

“Technically, it _is_ within the rules of the tournament.” Washington muttered from behind the group, the Seas barely standing upright on what appeared to be rather shaky feet. Tucker had to fight the urge to run over and ask if he was all right.

“Besides, it’s best not to get too chummy with everyone. Right, _Washy_?” South said as she openly mocked her former teammate, “We’re competing in this thing.”

Tucker turned back around to face her again, a cutting retort on his lips, when Washington reached out and gripped him tightly by the shoulder. He shook his head when the Beast Folk turned to stare at him questioningly. Tucker held back for that reason alone. But, only barely.

“Look on the fucking bright side.” South continued when it was apparent that she was not about to be interrupted, “Now two of your fighters can be justifiably spared to go with your support group. Isn’t that a _good_ thing, strategically speaking?”

No matter how she tried justifying it now, it had still been a pretty shitty thing for her to do. From the frowns on everyone’s faces, they were all thinking along the same lines. Tucker was just about to tell her so in his own colorful way when Washington squeezed his shoulder once more, “It’s all right, Tucker.” The blond told him reassuringly.

Tucker could only look into his gray eyes and nod, even though a part of him knew the whole thing still fucking sucked. Still, the Seas was right. Causing more of a scene with South would not help anyone.

A slow, rather patronizing clapping sound made its way over to their ears. They turned to see the mercenary Felix sauntering over to their group. He bowed his brown-haired head somewhat as he reached down to retrieve the Relic from the ground, pointed ears even more visible as he did so.

“Congratulations are in order for our winners, I suppose.” Felix finally said, grinning sardonically, “Ready to have that grand tour?”

The mercenary turned and promptly began walking in the other direction, clearly expecting the group to follow. Sarge shrugged towards Washington and Tucker’s direction, his silent comment about how they couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity not lost on either of them.

Tucker glanced over at Washington again, who nodded once more before Tucker frowned and headed after the already calmly moving South. The others who had actively participated in the tournament moved along in step with him. Tucker could feel Washington’s eyes on his back as they left the area.

*****

It was something of a chaotic mess following Tucker and the others’ departure with the mercenary from the tournament grounds. People were entering into the field from the stands, either to get a better look at all of the carnage or to check on those competitors who had not made it through the round.

That group, naturally, included Richard “Dick” Simmons and those from their traveling party who had been in the stands with him. All of their group were a bit shaken by the unforeseen change in plans, although a certain dark-haired Beast Folk almost seemed amusedly giddy at the turn of events.

“Well, there was always a strong likelihood of potential injury considering the circumstances…” Doctor Grey said in a sing-song tone as she tilted Washington’s head slightly to get a better look at the damage that had been done to his skull, “But who could have guessed it would have come from an ally?”

“I could.” Church said glumly as he stood nearby his cousin, who was busy putting his healing aura to good use even as Doctor Grey sped along her examination of the fading evidence, “South was fucking extreme even back during the project, and that’s putting it mildly.”

“It isn’t all that shocking, given some of her previous actions.” Washington replied, nodding his head at Church’s words. The action earned him a frustrated finger poke from Doctor Grey, who was still trying to examine him for signs of a concussion.

There was silence all around the group as they processed Washington and Church’s words. “You guys have _awesome_ friends.” Grif finally said, letting out a low whistle as Simmons fussed at him to remain still, “Seriously. The best.”

“Hey, I never called her a friend!” Church tried to say in his defense, “We didn’t exactly talk much. At all.”

“Why?” Grif asked as he raised a dark eyebrow, “You were too busy dealing with two other women who could kick your ass instead?”

Church gave the Orc the finger, but didn’t do or say anything else to disprove his comment. Grif grinned triumphantly over towards Simmons, who could only sigh and shake his head at the extreme level of immaturity currently going on around him.

“All right!” Doctor Grey called out, clapping her hands rather loudly together to draw everyone’s attention towards her, “The good news is that there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage, so there’s really nothing here that Simmons’ power can’t heal by itself.”

Simmons let out a tiny breath of relief that he had not realized he had been holding until just then. Church shoved him playfully in the shoulder, “See? You’re good for something after all!”

Now it was Simmons’ turn to give his cousin the finger, which Church promptly and expectantly ignored.

“Man, it’s a good thing _you_ weren’t one of the competitors, Sheila.” Donut whispered conversationally to the crystalline woman, “We might have been in real trouble if it had been your head that she’d used!”

Sheila nodded solemnly in agreement, “A guard at the Magic Division once tried to headbutt me out of curiosity.” She recalled with a slight frown on her features, “It did not end well.”

“That is so rude!” The dirty blond exclaimed, downright seething on behalf of his friend, “And I’m usually all for giving someone a hard head!”

“Can someone else _please_ start talking?” Church groaned, “Any fucking day now, really.”

“As much as her methods left something to be desired,” Washington spoke out, acting as though Donut and Sheila’s conversation had never even occurred, “South _was_ right about one thing.”

“The correct way to apply blunt force trauma to the skull without inducing a concussion?” Grey asked seriously. When all eyes landed on her, she coughed, her fox ears twitching slightly in embarrassment atop her head, “Not that blunt force trauma of _any_ kind should be encouraged, mind you.”

“See, I feel like anything that needs _that_ type of disclaimer following it probably shouldn’t even be said.” Grif muttered to the redhead standing next to him, and Simmons couldn’t help but nod his head slightly in agreement.

“No.” Washington was quite eager to move this conversation along, so he continued very quickly before anyone else could interrupt him, “She was right in that we now have two fighters tagging along with the investigative group. That should at least help increase our odds of sneaking into the fortress.”

“That actually does make a strategic sort of sense.” Sheila conceded, the others nodding in agreement.

“Though a heads up would have been the polite thing to do.” Donut added, nodding along with his own sense of social etiquette.

“Considering my current headache,” Washington said, almost smiling at the pink-wearing younger man, “I really can’t argue with you there.”

Simmons couldn’t stop himself from frowning all the same as he quietly spoke to Grif, “I’m just glad that the two of you will be all right.”

“That makes two of us,” the orange-wearing man smirked back in response, “And it’s not like I can really complain too much about getting to hang out more with you.”

It took the Orc a few seconds to process what he had just said, and then his tanned face took on a rather reddish hue. The maroon-wearing redhead felt the pangs of someone else’s awkwardness mixed in with his own. _Damn Linking Magic!_ Grif coughed awkwardly, looking off to the side as an equally blushing Simmons promptly did the same.

…Only for the two to be met with the sight of a gleefully gushing Donut, his brown eyes large and enormous as he beamed knowingly at the both of them.

The awkward and slightly uncomfortable exchange only mercifully lasted for a moment before the younger man turned his head in the direction that the others had gone in, a look of concern suddenly suffusing his normally joyful features.

“I really hope that Doc and everyone else will be all right.” Donut murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

The Seas in their midst had heard him, however, and reached out to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, “I am sure that they will be fine.” Washington told him in a consoling sort of voice, “Tucker actually proved himself to be a fairly capable leader back there.”

From behind them, Church made a very obvious fake gagging noise in the back of his throat, “All right, let’s get moving ourselves. Hopefully _before_ things get any more goddamned mushy around here and I am forced to kill you all for the sake of my continued sanity.”

*****

“Even though these arrangements are meant to be only temporary at best, I will try to do what I can to make them more comfortable.” Filss told Four Seven Niner during one of her assigned checkups of the detention cells.

“Well, gee. Thanks for that.” The dwarven pilot couldn’t help but mutter sarcastically, though Four Seven Niner winced a moment later herself when the diamond woman remained standing at her cell door. The pilot rubbed the back of her head awkwardly, “Sorry. I know you and the guy with the bad dye job are trying to help us.”

“The apology is not necessary.” Filss assured her politely, “I just wish that I could do more.”

The tan-skinned woman regarded the Magic User carefully then, having picked up on the hidden meaning behind her words, “You’re something of a prisoner yourself, aren’t you?”

Filss nodded briefly, “My sister and I…our magic abilities manifested quite early on.” She held out her hand in front of her, examining her spread out fingers carefully. They gleamed even in what dim lighting there was down in the cells, “As you can imagine, it was hard for our parents to conceal them. We were both taken into Unsc custody as a result.” The diamond woman shrugged her shoulders as if trying to downplay her next words, “I’ve been with them ever since.”

“No way!” Jensen exclaimed from her cell not too far away, “These guys have connections to the empire?”

“At least to the Magic Division in some way.” Filss informed her, “That was the division I was taken in by. Price is a researcher for them.”

“Price?” Palomo tilted his head curiously at the unknown name.

“Some asshole with a super creepy smile.” Kaikaina informed the dark-haired man bluntly.

While he said nothing during this conversation, Matthews suddenly shivered and hugged himself even tighter at the mention of Price.

“Having your freedom cut off so much sucks.” Four Seven Niner noted to Filss’ earlier remarks as a wry, sort-of smile graced her lips, “I felt something similar during my stint in an orphanage. It’s the main reason why I wanted so badly to become an airship pilot.”

Filss smiled herself, a rather faraway look in her clear eyes, “Flying must be very lovely.”

“I’ll be sure to show you sometime, once we get out of here.”

“Hey, you two.” Kaikaina suddenly cut in with a serious note in her voice, “Can you maybe keep the flirting to a minimum? We need to figure out how to get out of here on our own in case this rescue plan sucks major ass. Plus, I want to see what _my_ chances are with this hottie here.”

She gestured over to Volleyball at that last comment. The blonde was still in the process of nodding at what the half-Orc, half-Beast Folk had said earlier, “Yeah, yeah…” It took a moment for Kaikaina’s last comment to sink in, a blush suddenly appearing on her face, “Wait…what?!?”

*****

Dexter Grif, Simmons, and the others were standing on top of a forested hill overlooking the back of the ruins that Charon had refitted into their fortress for the time being. It seemed oddly peaceful at the moment, and not at all sinister and menacing.

From where the group was currently standing, the noise from the celebration and festivities going on currently in town sounded far off in the distance. The wind gently blew the long blades of grass towards their target, as if trying to beckon them entrance.

In any other situation? Grif would be sorely tempted to just sit down and try to take a nap. Maybe even pull Simmons down along with him since the nerdy human could always use the rest, after all. But, this was a different type of situation altogether. In the Orc’s mind, it was always a fucking bad sign when napping wasn’t the best course of action.

After all, they were here to save Kai and the other Magic Users who had been kidnapped. Thanks to Simmons’ healing magic, definitely a convenient power if ever there was one, he was back in top form to do so. Sleep could come later.

“There do appear to be less guards now.” Sheila noted quietly, as if she was afraid that speaking up any louder would alert the seemingly absent Charon forces to their presence.

Doctor Grey nodded her head in agreement, “This would probably be the ideal time to sneak in.”

“Just how are we going to go about it?” Donut queried, a hand over his eyes as he carefully scanned the area around them, “I mean, I’m an expert at finding holes! But, we’ll need a large one or it will be a tight squeeze all around once we get deep in there!”

Church made a disgruntled noise and a lowly muttered comment about phrasing, but they all ignored him.

“Can’t you teleport us in, Donut?” Simmons questioned, remembering the dirty blond’s powers.

“I _could_ ,” Donut replied, looking thoughtful at the question, “But it’s always a big risk if I don’t know the area.”

Right. Grif couldn’t speak for the others, but he would personally hate to get stuck in a wall or appear right in the middle of a group of Charon guards. That would definitely belong in the category of _“hassles rather avoided.”_

“Well, now _is_ your best bet for getting into the place undetected. So, it looks like you’re in quite the pickle if you can’t figure this part out.”

The group spun around at the new voice, surprised to see a man dressed in blue standing directly behind them. The stranger’s hands were clasped behind his back and a gentle, friendly expression was on his face.

Washington stiffened at the sight, as did Church. Their expressions suddenly became unreadable in a way that did not speak of good things. _Freelancer shit_ , Tucker would likely say.

“…Florida.” Washington finally said, hesitating as if in the presence of a ghost.

“Seriously,” Grif questioned irritably, as his last encounter with a new Freelancer was still very much fresh in his mind even if the pain had long since faded away to memory, “How many of you Freelancer assholes are there?”

“Oh, not as many as there used to be. Now,” Florida informed the chubby orange-wearing man in that still oddly pleasant tone of voice before he stepped forward and gestured again towards the facility their group was currently surveilling, “The real question you should be asking yourselves is just what it is that you plan on doing with this opportunity that you’ve been given.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kai obviously has the right priorities, plus Florida appears! :) Next chapter is when the rescue mission really gets underway, and there are a few surprising twists and reveals in store too! We’re actually about six chapters or so away from the conclusion to Volume I, and I’m starting to get excited with all the things I have planned for the second part of this series! :D
> 
> I would also like to give out a HUGE **thank you** to the incredibly talented and wonderful blankslate101, who has made some phenomenal artwork for this story. It’s seriously amazing, and I can’t stop gushing every time I see it. Please be sure to check out their work over at DeviantArt yourself! :D Thank you so much, again! :)
> 
> Also, I have a Canon Divergent AU that I will be posting in a few weeks, as was requested by the awesome Shiranai Atsune! :) I know that I have a lot of WIPs in the air right now, but I still plan on doing my best to finish them all. I hope that you will bear with me and enjoy the ride! XD
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story! :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons could both see _and_ feel Grif tense up at the sudden appearance of the man in blue behind their group, which was more than a tad disconcerting given his own increased anxiety.

Everyone was looking rather ill at ease with the sudden intrusion, but it was the visible apprehension radiating practically in waves off of Washington that increased everyone’s stress levels about tenfold. After all, before this Washington had been more or less steadfast in his reactions. Seeing the blond Seas off-put during an already tense situation was, to say the least, more than a little upsetting.

Comparatively, despite also knowing this particular Freelancer, Simmons’ cousin’s currently high levels of frustration weren’t noteworthy considering Church’s default mood tended to lean towards highly stressed.

The newcomer, apparently named Florida, seemed to catch on to the tense mood encompassing the group rather quickly. There was a brief flicker of amusement in the Freelancer’s eyes before he raised up his hands in what appeared to be a pacifying gesture, “I am not an operative of this base, I can assure you that.” He informed them rather succinctly, “I’m here to help.”

Simmons couldn’t help but cast a skeptical glance towards Grif’s direction, the Orc shooting back an equally doubtful expression. After all, the last time a Freelancer had offered their _“help”_ …

“Washington.” Florida’s tone was as pleasant and cordial-sounding as it had been since he had so expertly snuck up on them, “You remember when we were allies, don’t you? The good old days?”

As far as Simmons could tell, if his last remark was meant to be sarcastic or mocking, it honestly didn’t come across in his tone.

Nonetheless, Washington frowned, his hand rubbing the side of his head that South had slammed against Grif’s skull mere hours before, “That was a long time ago,” Washington finally stated at length to Florida, “And some of my recent meet-ups with former teammates haven’t exactly gone smoothly.”

“Ah.” Understanding loomed across the older human’s face then, “Are you referring to what happened with South?”

“You saw that?” Doctor Grey asked in surprise, expressing the question going through all of their minds just then.

For how long had they had been observed? …Maybe from the minute they had arrived in Rat’s Nest. The idea left a sick feeling crawling through Simmons’ stomach.

“Of course he would have.” Washington answered for the other Freelancer, “He is one of the best when it comes to surveillance.”

Florida inclined his head slightly as if in humble acknowledgement of Washington’s statement, “South’s way of doing things is rather _rough_. I’ll give you that.”

“That’s a fucking understatement.” Grif muttered under his breath, also subconsciously rubbing the side of his head.

The Seas took a step forward then, actively putting himself between the Guildsmen and his former teammate, “Can I take that to mean that the two of you have been working together?” Washington inquired abruptly, “Along with C.T.?”

Florida’s expression remained decidedly blank and neutral, “I happened to give her the intel about what was going on here, yes. But South and C.T. are doing their own thing.” He stiffened his shoulders somewhat, an oddly faraway look in his dark eyes just then, “There’s someone here that I’d like to meet up with again, you see.”

Church rolled his eyes, “I’ll give you one fucking guess as to who that probably is.” He noted sarcastically to Washington, glancing the blond’s way.

Washington nodded, as if whatever aside Church had just spouted made perfect sense. Grif and Simmons both glanced at one another again. They didn’t even need the Linking Magic to know what was going through the other’s mind.

_…Fucking Freelancer problems._

“Always did have a sharp eye, Church.” Florida complimented the goateed man in cobalt before turning his attention back to Washington, “Seeing C.T. again in particular must have been a pleasant surprise for you, Washington. You two were practically family, I recall.”

Washington pointedly ignored the questioning sets of eyes that trailed his back following the Freelancer’s comment, instead choosing to still glower at Florida, “You said that you were here to help, didn’t you?” he questioned sharply, “Then prove it.”

Florida shrugged indifferently as if he had expected harsh treatment from Washington. Very pointedly moving so that his back was to the group, though Simmons still suspected that was merely a show and he was well-aware of any actions they may take, the older man walked over to the closest wall of the ruins.

Upon closer inspection of the area, Simmons could just make out the faint outlines of what appeared to be a door. It was built in such a way that it wasn’t immediately noticeable from the stone that made up the rest of the wall.

He also couldn’t help but notice the two dead bodies off to the side, partially concealed by the tall blades of grass. Their armor was very distinctive of the Charon soldiers they had seen meandering elsewhere in Rat’s Nest.

Florida picked up on the redhead’s suddenly queasy regard, “I would have concealed them better, but your group caught me a bit by surprise when you showed up on the hill.” He admitted nonchalantly before rasping his knuckles against the door, “You can use this way to get inside the facility. I estimate about twenty minutes before these two are noticed missing.”

“Well.” Sheila looked slightly disturbed by the sight of the two corpses as well, “I guess that’s one way to deal with things.”

Donut gave her shoulder a slight, sympathetic squeeze just then. Simmons and Doctor Grey both nodded at her encouragingly. This was outside of all of their comfort zones.

Church glared at Florida suspiciously, “That’s all well and good, but why the fuck should we even trust you?”

Washington said nothing, his lips pursed in clear contemplation as he listened in to how his former Freelancer ally would respond.

Florida sighed, “You probably shouldn’t. Completely, at least. That’s just simple strategy.” He squared his shoulders before turning around and fixing the group with a level stare, “But if you don’t infiltrate this place soon, how long do you think the others in your traveling party will last on their own?”

At the reminder that Tucker and the others were already inside, a momentary flicker of urgency crossed Washington’s gray and yellow-tinged face. He stepped forward towards the door, “Let’s go.”

Florida pressed against the stone of the door, the heavy object sliding out of the way with a spattering of fallen dirt and a soft, grinding noise as its ancient, unseen mechanisms came into play. Pressing the stone by the door outline again caused the whole process to happen in reverse once everyone had stepped inside the dimly lit corridor beyond.

The inside of the ruins looked surprisingly sturdy and fortified compared to the shambling, threatening to crumble patches of it that were still visible on the outside.

“Oh!” Donut exclaimed breathlessly, twirling around at the sight, “Someone’s been busy redecorating!”

Florida nodded, “This building goes underground several levels. Everything below the surface was rebuilt for Charon’s purposes.”

“So their lair would be completely hidden from view.” Doctor Grey surmised, awe-inspired by the genius of the plan.

“As fascinating as all of this architectural talk is,” Church spoke up not a minute later, “Standing in the hall like a bunch of fucking losers is a surefire way to get killed.”

Washington nodded his head in agreement, “Let’s move.”

They made quick progress from the ground level to the one just below it without alerting any guards. But, just as suddenly as they made it to the stairwell for the next floor, Florida grabbed at his side and collapsed in an open doorway. A quick, pained gasp escaped from the older human’s mouth at the sudden motion.

“Florida?!?” Washington couldn’t hide the momentary concern that crossed over his features at the unexpected action, “What’s wrong?”

The older man’s face contorted in a grimace as he removed his hand from the dark blue material at his side. Florida held the hand up, palm outwards, to reveal that it was coated with blood. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, there was a darker stain soaking through his outfit.

“Looks like…my infiltration was a bit more difficult than I first thought.” Florida breathed out haltingly, clearly pained.

Washington frowned, bending over to get a closer look at the wound, “It’s not like you to get sloppy.”

Florida smiled rather self-deprecatingly at the remark, “Guess I had my mind elsewhere.”

“Yeah, like on making out with Wyoming.” Church muttered under his breath by Simmons’ shoulder, the redhead turning a quizzical glance towards his cousin before glancing back towards the wounded man.

Doctor Grey moved forward then, a serious look of contemplation on the foxlike Beast Folk’s face as the dark-skinned woman reached for the medical kit by her side. But, before Grey could open it, Simmons reached out a hand to stop her.

“Doctor Grey, it’s best if he gets healed up quickly. Besides, what if someone else needs your help even more down in the cells?” Simmons questioned as her dark eyes shot towards his green ones in a probing stare, “I…I can stay behind and use my healing aura on him.”

A spark of sudden panic and urgency flared down the maroon-wearing man’s spine as Grif’s rather large and tan hand grasped around Simmons’ arm, “Wait a fucking minute, Simmons! That’s—!” he began, clearly panicked.

Simmons broke through the Orc’s heated protest with a firm shake of his head, “I’ll…I’ll be fine, Grif!” He reassured him, trying to pry away from Grif’s vicelike grip, “Kai and the others still need help.”

Grif’s frown only deepened at the mention of his sister, but he nodded his head and reluctantly let go of Simmons’ arm a split-second later. Simmons felt a small twinge of loss at the sudden removal of warmth, but smiled thankfully at a rather anxious-looking Grif all the same.

Donut watched the exchange between the two men play out before he grinned and patted both of them on the back, “Now don’t you worry, Grif!” He said jubilantly, “I’ll stay too and make sure we all catch up before you know it! So, just soldier on and mount up!”

Grif finally tore his eyes away from Simmons’ face to smile slightly at Donut, “Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime, pal!” Donut beamed, clearly thrilled to be acknowledged.

“Say hi to Kai for me, okay?” Simmons asked the orange-wearing Orc in an attempt to ease the situation.

Grif nodded before Washington ushered him through the stairwell along with the rest of the group.

As soon as their heavy footsteps receded from earshot, Simmons bent down over Florida and held his hands out above the wound. A warmth began spreading out over his fingers.

Florida’s posture relaxed slightly, “Thank you.”

The redhead simply nodded in reply, trying to concentrate spreading his aura out over the injury itself.

Donut, meanwhile, paced the hallways, peering down the stairwell that the others had gone through. When the dirty blond turned back around to regard Florida, all traces of his usual mirth had entirely disappeared from his features.

“All right, mister.” The pink-wearing man stated in a rather knowing tone, “Whatever you need to tell Simmons, you can get to it now.” The look in Donut’s brown eyes was quite serious and, not a second later, his arms uncharacteristically crossed over his chest.

Simmons lowered his hands abruptly, nearly falling out of his crouch in shock, “Donut? What are you—?”

“I’ll give you points on your acting and delivery though.” Donut quickly added as he cut off the redhead’s lingering question by continuing to address Florida instead, “Getting yourself injured on purpose was a nice touch too.”

A smirk crossed over the Freelancer’s face at Donut’s remark, “Those are observations not even Washington picked up on in the heat of the moment.” He sounded rather impressed, “I should have expected no less from the prince of the Unsc.”

Simmons turned his head to openly gape up at Donut, but the Guild member suddenly refused to even meet his eyes.

Florida sighed as he stood up to dust off his clothes like his injury had been nothing, “The two of you seem like nice enough boys,” he informed them, “So I’m going to apologize in advance for what’s about to happen. But, I need to be sure of something.”

Donut reached out quickly then, latching onto Simmons’ arm as if to try to teleport them somewhere away from their current location.

_“There’s no need for that.”_

Suddenly, a calm voice filled their minds and both men felt an inexplicable urge to stay right where they were.

*****

“It fucking took you long enough.”

Antoine Bitters was waiting for the group by the exit of the fifth stairwell they had gone down. The younger dark-skinned human was already turning on his heels and marching down the corridor before anyone had the chance to respond to his biting remark, his stride quick and purposeful.

“It’s not like we have a shitload of time before the _“tour”_ brings the others close by.” Bitters noted hastily in way of further explanation.

“Is Kai okay?” Dexter Grif asked as he once again glanced behind him for any sign of Simmons or Donut before swallowing down empty air and moving to quickly match the younger man’s stride. It was an easy enough feat for someone of his Orc stature to do.

Bitters stopped in front of a nondescript door, slamming his fist against a glowing stone panel next to it. “Why don’t you go and see for yourself?” He asked as the door opened with a hiss of air from the other side.

Inside the revealed space was what could only be described as a dungeon. It was practically stereotypical in its structure, right down to the rows and rows of cells it contained. The bad guys were clearly not ones for originality.

Grif pushed past Bitters and stepped into the bleak scene, heart thudding in his chest as he scanned the room for any trace of far too delicate-looking butterfly wings.

Outside of the cells was a woman who seemed to bear a striking resemblance to Sheila due to how her form appeared to be sculpted entirely out of diamond. She apparently had Sheila’s strength too as she broke the lock on a nearby cell by simply slamming her fist into the panel next to it, the panel cracking as if it wasn’t made out of stone. The young Seas boy inside the now open cell gingerly stepped out after a few hesitating moments. Next came Volleyball, who gripped onto one of the auburn-haired boy’s shaking shoulders reassuringly, along with…

_“Kai!”_ Grif couldn’t hold back the shout that escaped from his lungs at the sight of his sister, even as he heard the alarmed hiss of warning from Washington nearby.

The tan-skinned girl turned in the orange-wearing man’s direction once she seemed certain that the female Guild apprentice could handle the weight of the Seas prisoner just fine on her own.

Her brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Grif, _“Dex!”_ Kai exclaimed as she raced past Palomo, who was busy talking to a human girl and a slightly older Dwarven woman, tears in her eyes as she threw her arms around her brother’s neck, “Where the fuck have you been?!?”

“Trying to fucking rescue you!” Grif shouted back as he returned the girl’s hug just as tightly while also trying to hold back his own tears. After all, he wasn’t a wimp like Simmons and he sure as hell wasn’t about to give Kai ammunition to tease him with later. He wasn’t a fucking crybaby, damn it!

“Well, you sure took your sweet-ass time!” Kai sniffled, pulling away, “We were about to break out of here on our own. Asshole.”

Grif rolled his eyes again, “Whatever. We’re here now, okay?” He cast a scrutinizing look over her from head to toe, “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, but it’s been boring as fuck here!” She narrowed her dark eyes in sudden recollection, “I couldn’t even get the guards to smuggle me in some porno mags or a vibrator to pass the fucking time!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grif nodded his head before her words actually registered, “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Bitch.” She glanced around him at the others in the rescue group, “Where’s Simmons? Don’t tell me you lost your nerd.”

“He’ll catch up with us later.” Grif assured her, smirking at her comment.

Meanwhile, Doctor Grey had pulled Sheila into the dungeon room as well, glancing towards the other statuesque woman who had just helped open the cells. The women regarded one another as they stood frozen in place. It was a rather awkward reunion, given how long it had been since they had seen each other last.

“Filss?” Sheila finally breathed out, hesitatingly.

Filss fidgeted uncomfortably on the spot where she stood, “Sheila.”

The Beast Folk doctor looked between the two women, “Ah, so you too _are_ siblings!” She chirped away happily at the reunion, “What a coincidence to meet up again here of all places, huh?”

Washington strode past the two family reunions and towards the recently freed tan-skinned Dwarven woman, who raised a black eyebrow in his direction, “Wash.” She greeted with a wry note to her voice and a slight incline of her head, “I guess I have you to thank for this rescue operation?”

Washington smirked slightly as he looked over the assembled team around them, “With some help.”

“So I see.” She smiled thinly, “It’s good to see you playing nice with others again.”

The Seas smiled rather awkwardly at her comment before turning his attention to the room at large once more, “All right,” he began curtly, “We need to find the others and secure our route out—”

“Oh, I’m afraid those escape plans of yours will have to wait.” A mocking voice interjected snidely from the doorway.

The group turned in that direction to find Felix standing there alongside a dark-skinned man. The stranger appeared to be regarding everyone with an eerily calm demeanor, as if assessing the situation.

Washington’s own stance tensed up abruptly at the sight of whoever this newcomer with Felix was, as did the body languages of all of the escaped prisoners as well as Filss and Bitters, “Aiden Price.” Washington muttered, although the newcomers didn’t acknowledge him.

“Though those reunions were certainly _quite_ touching.” Felix continued, the mercenary grinning broadly as he turned his head to the side, “Wouldn’t you guys agree?”

One of the dungeon walls completely disintegrated from view as if it had never been there at all, revealing a group of Charon forces led by a guy with a shark motif woven throughout his armor and another rather large man decked out in steel and green. They were surrounding…

“I don’t believe it.” The woman who had been talking to Washington was staring wide-eyed at one of the figures, “Michael?”

“Hey, sis! We are here to rescue you!” Caboose waved cheerily despite the situation, “And Church is here too! Hi, Church!”

Church grumbled something under his breath and lowered his head, but still waved weakly in Caboose’s direction all the same.

“Hey, guys! Funny meeting you here!” Doc said cheerfully, clearly a new member of Caboose’s _“can’t read situations well”_ club.

“Katie!” Andersmith called out, causing the tan girl with freckles who had been with Palomo to look over at him in shock.

“Tucker!” Washington exclaimed before the Katie girl could react, and he was only able to stop himself from racing forward to where the teal-wearing Guild member and the others were by sheer force of will.

Grif glanced at the newcomers. It appeared that only South seemed to be missing from the group that had won the _“tournament”_ round earlier. Sneaky Freelancers.

Meanwhile, the dark-skinned Beast Folk grinned sheepishly back at Washington from his spot in-between Sarge and Lopez amongst the winner group, “Hey, Wash…guys. Looks like you found them, huh?”

*****

“I have a fairly good idea on just what it is that Aiden Price wants you to do here, Simmons.” Florida noted quietly as the redhead and Donut followed the former Freelancer further and further into the myriad twisting corridors and tunnels of the ruins.

Simmons said nothing in reply, his mind and heart both racing a mile a minute. He had long since given up on trying to keep track of where they were going, his feet still moving with a purpose all their own.

Eventually, Florida stopped in front of what appeared to be a fairly massive stone chamber at the very center of the facility.

Inside, floating just over the top of their heads was a large Remnant, halfway pulsating with blue light while the other half of the crystalline structure was completely black. There was a hum filling the chamber, but the sound seemed to be fractured too. Its echo stopped in sharp abruptness every few seconds.

“They found the Remnant like this when they were restoring this place.” Florida explained as the trio entered the chamber, “As you can see, it is in desperate need of _“healing.”_ ”

Simmons planted his feet directly in front of the floating crystal.

“S—Simmons…!” Donut managed to somehow get the words out through gritted teeth as a pale hand extended upwards towards the smooth surface of the Remnant.

“Just a friendly warning,” Florida’s voice stated from behind the maroon-wearing human, “You’re probably not going to like what you see.”

Simmons tried biting down on his lip to break the compulsion, but his hand touched the warmth pulsating out from the magical artifact anyways. He couldn’t even stop himself from letting out a heartrending scream at the sudden onslaught of images that flared to vivid life inside his mind.

*****

Grif, in the midst of thinking about just how things couldn’t _possibly_ get any fucking worse, was suddenly hit with an overwhelming, crippling sense of sheer panic that he quickly registered as not his own. The Orc let out a loud groan as he crashed roughly to his knees on the ground.

“Whoa!” Kai cried out as she tried to pull the heavier-set man up by his shoulder, her own fear and worry clear as day as she bent over her older sibling, “Dex! What the fuck is going on?”

Felix smirked, “Even the big, scary Orc is having a panic attack because he knows how fucked you guys are.”

_“Dex!”_

“Shut the fuck up, asshole!” Tucker yelled out towards Felix at the same time as Kai’s shout.

_There are people running everywhere. All of their ears are pointed and, despite the looming terror in the air, he can’t help but think that is odd._

_Everything is dark and cold, and there is no escape from the yawning chasm in the peoples’ midst._

_Those that don’t die instantly, that don’t get their souls taken away right then and there…_ change _. The sounds of bones snapping and reshaping, of flesh tearing and stretching overrun the screams until only something truly inhuman lies in wait._

Tears pinpricked Grif’s eyes, and his breath turned to sharp, piercing ice in his lungs. Was that…was it something that _Simmons_ was seeing then? What the absolute fuck…?

Kai’s nails dug into his flesh painfully. But, before Grif could remotely try to collect himself and shake everything off for the moment to reassure her, the area around them began to shake violently.

The dark-skinned man, who Washington had called Aiden Price earlier, continued to have a rather disconcerting smile as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. It seemed as if he was not at all alarmed or displeased by the sudden turn of events. Instead, the slight curve of his lips only intensified, “It appears as if the Remnant has been restored.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long it took me to update any of my stories. I was dealing with a heavy combination of extremely disappointing news and a whole lot of sickness over the last two weeks, which kind of threw my writing schedule completely out of whack.
> 
> This chapter ended up being a doozy to write, with quite a bit happening and at least one semi-important plot reveal! :D I’m sure that it is all a tad confusing at the moment, but things will be explained in due time! I need to keep some mysteries, after all. …Also, I feel like at this point I should just throw in a blanket _“sorry for the cliffhanger”_ comment at the end of all of this fic’s chapters. XD
> 
> Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read this fic. :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons’ whole body simultaneously felt both mind-numbingly cold and flesh-meltingly hot. There was a sudden surge of energy running through him, as well as surging very distinctly _away_. He could feel it being drawn and sucked from the very core of his _being_ into the Remnant.

…The Remnant that was now pulsating a blindingly bright blue. The same blue one might find looking up at the sky on a particularly sunny, cloudless day…only the color was on a much more intense scale. About a million times more. He didn’t know color could be that intense.

The ever-present hum of the Remnant’s almost heartbeat-like rhythm became a strong, constant reverberation in Simmons’ ears.

The redhead was being hit by a volley of sensations, ones that he was only now becoming acutely aware of again since the vision _(memory?)_ from the Remnant had started to fade to a nightmare that steadily repeated itself in the back of his mind.

_Unasked for transformations, countless deaths, a chaos and confusion that only spread the more attempts had been made to contain it…_

What Simmons had just seen seemed to depict the annihilation of the Elves. A strong sense of nausea threatened to overtake him. Had he really just witnessed an entire civilization’s demise?

The human’s legs gave out under him, due not only to the intense backlash of the dreams _(memories)_ he had just seen, but also due to the sheer scope and weight of what had just occurred to him physically. Simmons had somehow _“healed”_ a Remnant, even though the logical part of his brain was telling him that should in no way be something remotely possible. After all, his Healing Aura had _never_ worked on inanimate objects before.

Simmons dimly thought once more of the heartbeat-like thrumming he was currently hearing, of the _“vision”_ he had just been privy to. He could do nothing to suppress the sudden shudder that followed.

There was no fucking way, none of this made _any_ sense…

“What the fuck just happened?” A familiar, unexpected voice demanded from the mouth of the stone chamber that Florida had brought Donut and Simmons to, “I’m pretty sure I’d remember if a damn earthquake was part of the plan!”

Simmons blinked as a belligerent South Dakota made her way towards them, the Freelancer’s ice blue eyes fixated on Florida.

South’s statement struck Simmons as odd. Had the ground shaken when he had been in too much of a shocked state to notice? He wondered if that had helped him to collapse onto the ground. He also thought of Grif and the others, hoping that they were all right.

“What the hell are you even doing here, Florida?” The woman demanded as she stopped only a few meters or so away from the still rather eerily nonplussed man, “Because messing with a Remnant sure as fuck doesn’t seem like part of a simple plan to meet up with Wyoming!”

From the fact that the orchid-tipped haired South had shown up here alone, Simmons figured that she must have ditched Tucker and the other tournament participants somewhere along the way. No doubt she had viewed them as dead weight to whatever her own goals were. He frowned slightly when he realized that his legs were still too shaky to support his body weight, not sure if he should count it as a good or bad sign that he had become aware enough of his surroundings to have gleamed basic reasoning again.

“Nothing is ever quite as simple as it appears on the surface, South. I thought you would have figured that out a long while ago.” the blue-wearing Freelancer, Florida, inclined his head slightly towards the woman’s direction, “As I recall, that was one of the reasons why you could never get along with most of our teammates.”

South grimaced at the older man’s remark, “Do me a fucking favor and cut the bullshit, all right?” She growled out, taking another dangerous step towards her past acquaintance, “Especially since I know that whatever fucking game you’re playing right now had us walking straight into that jackass Price’s hands again.”

Florida’s mouth twitched downwards slightly at the mention of that particular name, a momentary look of regret lighting up his brown eyes before he smothered it, “Yes, aiding him was something of an unfortunate side effect I had to put up with in order to test out a theory.”

While the two former Freelancers were in the middle of their rather tense and way too confusing verbal standoff with one another, Donut had slinked over to Simmons’ side as inconspicuously as a man dressed in pink could. The dirty blond leaned down close to Simmons’ head, whispering out in hurried words to the redhead, “M—maybe we can slip out of here while they’re all hot and bothered.”

But Donut’s careful attempt at subterfuge was apparently wasted, given how Florida spoke up in response to the younger man’s quiet commentary even as he never took his pointed gaze off of South, “That won’t be necessary, Your Highness. I am sure that our friend South here is more than capable of seeing you both back safely to your teammates.”

The orchid-armored woman scoffed at the very idea, “Like hell I will! I am done playing the role of a fucking babysitter to these idiots!”

“South.” Florida’s tone then cut the platinum blonde off in the middle of her rant, earning him a rather murderous glare from her in response, “Young Donut here is in fact the missing prince of the Unsc Empire.” He informed her, raising a dark eyebrow questioningly as he added, “Surely you can see how it _could_ prove rather beneficial if you were able to ensure that he gets back to his friends unharmed.”

South’s eyes landed on the pair of Guild members for a moment, looking over at Donut in particular in staunch disbelief over Florida’s announcement. The younger man gulped nervously and straightened his body posture in response to her examination rather defensively.

Something in the uncharacteristically rigid body language the man was displaying seemed to convince her of the truth of Florida’s words, because South jerked her head to the room’s entrance a second later, “The two of you just better keep the fuck up.”

Simmons shakily nodded his head along with Donut, the pink-wearing male helping Simmons to his still rather wobbly and unreliable feet not a second later. He didn’t even complain in the slightest when Simmons ended up having to lean against him to continue staying upright.

South turned to Florida again, “What about you, huh?” She asked, her voice rather gruff and indifferent, “Still planning on trying to find Wyoming?”

The older man gave her a curt nod in response, “Of course.”

“Asshole.” She proceeded to ignore Florida fully after that insult, turning to face the exit as she called out to Donut and Simmons over her shoulder, “Move it!”

“For what it might be worth, I am sorry for the sudden shock.” Florida muttered under his breath to Simmons as the duo moved past him to follow their newly decided upon escort out, “Tell me. How do you think you’ll proceed now?”

Simmons wouldn’t have been able to answer him, even if he had been given the time to do so. Everything that had happened, that the maroon-wearing Magic User had witnessed? He honestly had no fucking clue how to even begin processing it, let alone start thinking about a future course of action he should take.

All Simmons really knew at the moment was just that he wanted, _needed_ to see Grif again as soon as possible.

*****

Dexter Grif, meanwhile, was trying to overcome his own freak out of sorts following the unexpected onslaught of images he had just experienced streaming from Simmons’ overwhelmed subconscious. He was still on his knees on the ground, Kai’s hand gripping his shoulder rather tightly to the point of bruising.

“Dex?” Kai whispered urgently down to him, sounding more than just a bit panicked given not only what she had just seen happen to her brother but also the sudden violent earthquake they had experienced, “Come on, you need to fucking snap out of it!”

Grif took in a deep breath. The only constant thought running through his mind at that moment being that he wanted, _needed_ to see the nerd again. To make sure that he was okay.

Which was fucking easier said than done, what with the current situation playing out in front of their group.

Felix finally stopped slow-clapping to leer smugly over at Bitters and Filss, “Guess this means the two of you can kiss your newsletter subscriptions goodbye.” He mocked, shaking his head in a very obvious play at feigning sadness and disappointment, “Just where, oh _where_ did the loyalty go?”

“Such things must be earned!” Sheila said as she placed her hand comfortingly on her sister’s shoulder when the older sibling took a step forward.

“Never agreed to kidnap people.” Bitters muttered, stepping forward himself as if to shield a shivering Matthews further from sight.

Price coughed pointedly from where he was standing behind Felix, “That is a rather harsh term to use considering our usual efforts of seeking out Magic Users for recruitment are fairly mundane.” He frowned slightly in thought, regarding the dungeon before him with a slightly distasteful air, “Though I suppose our alternative methods could be construed as _rough_ in certain lights, yes.”

“You’re totally bullshitting us right now, aren’t you?” Church demanded in response, raising a dark eyebrow incredulously, “I mean, you’re still going to try to use word games to justify this fucked up shit?”

“Alpha. Despite what you might think, it is good seeing you again.” Price inclined his head slightly in Church’s direction as if in greeting to the still rather seething Fragment, “Agent Washington as well.”

“Funny. That is not how I would describe this situation. At all.” Washington managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Felix, who apparently really loved hearing the sound of his own voice, decided to cut back into the conversation again with a derisive snort, “Truth be told, though? Most of these rejects weren’t even worth the time or effort it took to round them up.” He grinned deviously, “Especially not since I can now do _this_.”

A mixture of red and dark energy swirled around the mercenary’s body then, before trailing away from him and forming a giant orb close to the center of the dungeon. There was a tremendous flash of light, the orb’s shape distorting with it and growing larger and larger until…

“Fuck.” Tucker’s disbelieving voice echoed everyone’s thoughts, as a leathery-winged _dragon_ with a ruby red Relic embedded into its incredibly large throat clawed angrily at the ground, “How the hell did you fucking _do_ that?”

The teal-armored Beast Folk just barely rolled out of the way of a sweeping sword arc from Locus then, his own energy blade that he subconsciously called forth at the monster’s sudden presence raised up in a parry.

“Tucker!” Washington seemed rather surprised at his sudden cry the moment he uttered it, though that didn’t stop the blond Seas’ hands from clenching tightly into fists at his sides all the same.

Behind Tucker were Sarge, Doc, and Lopez. The trio moved away just in time to avoid a flame attack from the Insurrection member with a shark motif on his helm that Caboose had oh-so-helpfully dubbed _“Sharkface”_ before he and Andersmith had broken free during the earlier earthquake to reunite with their missing loved ones.

“This happens to be a rather special component to my own particular brand of magic.” Felix remarked, expertly throwing a knife Washington’s way to stop the Seas from trying to race forward past the creature to try and offer some kind of assistance to Tucker and the others still stuck on that side closer to their human foes as the dragon began to lumber forward towards the escapees and their would-be rescuers, “I can summon Plague Beasts from active Remnants.”

“Felix, you talk too much.” Locus informed his partner matter-of-factly as he expertly dodged a frantic swing from Tucker, who was trying to fight the looming mercenary _and_ see what was going on behind them involving Washington’s group as well.

“That Remnant energy was meant to go towards our goals.” Price chided Felix rather calmly.

Felix uncaringly shrugged the comment off, “Relax. There’s _always_ more where that came from.” His brown eyes narrowed as he took in the scene in the dungeon, “But right now? All I really give a shit about is dealing with these assholes right in front of me.”

Price gave a small sigh, “Try to at least avoid killing _all_ of them. They might still prove useful.”

The mercenary rolled his eyes, “Sorry, doc, but I am _not_ making any promises.” Felix muttered as he stepped forward, the fight breaking out in earnest all around him not a second later.

*****

In another area of the fortress ruins, two figures clad in white garb stood side-by-side. They had been put on standby duty a while ago, and Wyoming was certainly not the sort to go against his employer’s wishes. There was a rumble underneath their feet, the floor and walls around them shaking ever-so-slightly.

Wyoming watched a bit of stone crumble away from the wall, his mustache twitching. “Seems as though the fighting below has gotten underway, chap.” He told Gamma.

“Affirmative.” Gamma responded in his usual expressionless way of talking.

Wyoming turned to face his younger, dark-haired partner, “Right. Well, we _were_ only paid for the whole kidnapping fiasco, so I suppose we could just seek employment elsewhere should things end up going south.” He smiled good-naturedly at his own alternative strategy, “Best to be prepared for any contingency, wouldn’t you say?”

“I already have several potential contracts that you might wish to look at.”

Wyoming patted his friend on the back, “Well done, Gary! I can always count on you.”

“So does that mean the two of you aren’t planning on sticking around to see how this plays out?”

The two mercenaries spun around at the rather cheerful voice that spoke just then, only to be met by a smiling Florida who gave them a friendly little wave of his hand in return. “Hello, Reggie. Gamma.” He greeted pleasantly, “It sure has been awhile, hasn’t it?”

A looming, suffocating silence fell over them, broken only by the slight rumbles of faraway fighting and a rather uncomfortable sounding cough from Wyoming. “This is going to get rather awkward, isn’t it?” He quietly asked the Fragment.

Gamma only gave a slight nod of his head for confirmation.

*****

The people who had accompanied Washington into the dungeon were currently trying their hardest to keep the dragon Plague Beast at bay along with those who had only just recently escaped from their cells.

“This is so fucked up!” Kai complained, her delicate-looking butterfly wings moving at a frantic pace behind her back as she dodged a spout of blue fire directed her way, “What kind of asshole makes cells so damn tiny but then puts a fucking cathedral roof over top of them?!?”

“I know, right? It’s like they expected there to be an epic dragon fight here at some point!” Palomo said as he nodded his head in earnest agreement. Well, more like _heads_ actually, as his magic ability was the ability to duplicate himself—which he was using to great effect to further confuse and annoy the Plague Beast even as Tucker shouted _“Oh great, now there’s more of him!”_ in exasperation on the other side of the area.

Felix swung his arm out in a sweeping arc, having moved closer into the space to get better hits on the enemy combatants there, several throwing knives suddenly embedding themselves in the various vitals of Palomo’s duplicates, “Word of advice, kiddo, while you’re still alive to hear it: it’s best to stay focused on the actual fighting.”

Palomo let out a small _“Eep!”_ as he brought his hands up to shield his face as his many doppelgangers disappeared into puffs of smoke all around him. The knife that had been aimed at his skull, however, never made it to its destination. Instead, it fell to the ground with a clatter, bouncing off of Jensen’s back as she moved in front of the young Guildsman to block the blow.

“Whoa.” Palomo breathed out, brown eyes impossibly wide, “You totally saved me!”

Jensen gave him a tiny smile, “Invulnerability _does_ have its perks.”

The dark-skinned man in teal-trimmed armor grinned right back at her, “I’ll say!”

“Katie!” Andersmith raced towards Felix at that moment, sending the smaller man skidding across the ground several meters with the force of his punch, “Are you all right?”

Jensen nodded shakily, her guardian’s enhanced strength never failing to catch her off-guard given how gentle he usually was, “Y—yeah, I’m fine!”

Felix spat out a bit of blood due to the dark-haired man’s fist having connected to his jaw, glaring at Andersmith, “I actually fucking felt that.” He muttered as he gave the older human an assessing look, “Let me guess. Increased strength or something, right?”

Andersmith gave a slight nod as he frowned, bringing up his fists again defensively.

Felix laughed, “Isn’t that just _too_ cute? But you still don’t have enough of it to take me down!”

“Wanna bet?” Washington had raced forward while Felix was gloating, the knife in his hand slicing through the wall where Felix’s head used to be as if he were cutting through butter.

Felix looked at the damage from his ducked position, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he kicked Washington back towards Andersmith, “According to Price, _you_ specialize in magic adaptation, which I’m assuming you’re using to copy the big guy’s ability right now. This could end up being mildly entertaining after all.”

Tucker, meanwhile, was still doing his best to hold off Locus, who was pressing him constantly with attacks so that he couldn’t really do much more than parry and defend himself. “Hey, Doc!” The dark-skinned man called over his shoulder, “A little help here?”

“Kind of…kind of busy at the moment, Tucker!” Doc exclaimed, his voice breaking with exhaustion as he kept up a continuous flow of energy with the help of his flower crown to keep the guards who had entered the dungeon following Price’s discreet exit moments before at bay.

“Dude, just fucking hit them directly and get it over with!” The Beast Folk shouted at him, more than a bit annoyed at Doc’s pacifistic tendencies at the moment.

“Eat lead, dirt-bag!” Sarge bellowed from several meters away, firing at Locus with his shotgun in order to give Tucker some breathing room.

Tucker nodded his head slightly in thanks before he noticed that Locus had disappeared from view entirely, “Oh, you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.”

“Genial, porque teníamos que tratar con alguien que ahora puede ser invisible." _{“Great, because we needed to be dealing with someone who can go invisible now.”}_

Lopez’s commentary was followed with the artificially constructed man having to jump back from a wall of fire as Sharkface shot a stream of it in the direction of the artificial construct and Sarge.

“I _was_ hoping to deal with the Freelancer first, but I guess holding him off for second will be all right.” The man’s voice contained a noticeable gloat in it.

Sarge harrumphed, “Well, that’s just downright insulting!” The older man cocked his weapon, inclining his head to Lopez as he did so, “Hop to it, Lopez! Let’s show this fella who really brings the heat here!”

“Los juegos de palabras de fuego son completamente innecesarios.” _{“The fire puns are completely unnecessary.”}_

The Plague Beast reared its head back, another torrent of blue fire erupting from its open mouth and filling the chamber.

Four Seven Niner grabbed her brother and Church by the back of their shirts, yanking them away from the inferno just in the nick of time. She flashed a grin Church’s way, “Looks like I _still_ have to haul your ass around, huh?”

Church groaned and gave her the finger, “We can’t all have crazily good reflexes like you.”

“No, but what we really need now is one hell of a good plan.” The airship pilot responded matter-of-factly, eyes glancing over Caboose to make sure her brother was okay.

Doctor Grey scanned the area with her eyes from behind the protective cover of both Sheila and Filss, their hardened bodies more than capable of taking a few super-heated breath attacks compared to her own fleshy soft one. There was an odd glimmer in the depths of her brown orbs that quickly faded as her vision landed on a tiny crack in one of the dungeons’ walls that reached all the way up towards the ceiling.

She smirked, her fox ears and tail twitching in anticipation, “I think I just got one!” Grey sang out proudly in the dwarven woman’s direction, inclining her head in the direction of the crack as she addressed the blond-haired younger man in blue standing beside Four Seven Niner and Church, “Caboose! We’ll be needing your help most of all!”

“Oh, yay! I like being useful.” The dwarf stated cheerily in response, clearly not hearing Church’s _“We are so fucked.”_ being muttered nearby. 

“First of all, we’ll need a distraction—”

“Already on it, crazy fox lady!” Kai called out, dipping down rather low to the ground and close to the creature’s gnawing teeth and thrashing claws before racing up towards the ceiling again just as the dragon reached out to strike at her.

“Volleyball, dear, if you could be so kind as to give our not-so-friendly dragon a bit of a push?”

“Of course, Doctor Grey!” The blonde put her hands out in front of her, an orb of what appeared to be black, swirling energy forming between them. She let the sphere loose with a cry, the energy field around it seeming to distort the very air.

When it hit the dragon, the Plague Beast violently shuddered and wobbled, taking several steps backwards right in the direction of the crack that Grey had spotted in the wall before.

“Caboose! Break the wall behind it now!” Doctor Grey shouted.

Caboose raced forward at her exclamation with surprising speed for his large frame, one of his gloves already off. He touched the crack behind the massive beast with his bare hand, and there was a slight glow from his fingertips right before the thing further splintered, the rocky structure suddenly eroding away…

“Mikey!” Four Seven Niner called out, as both she and Church pulled her little brother out of the way as the stumbling dragon crashed into the wall.

Grif was right behind it, slamming his staff down onto the dragon’s scale-covered hide, explosions rocking over the dragon’s entire body as he did so. It thrashed with an air-piercing howl, the action causing the ceiling directly above it to cave in.

For a moment, everything was still as the dust settled and Doctor Grey let out a breath, “Well, that should buy us some time.”

Bitters scoffed as he effortlessly tossed another huge piece of rubble on top of the pile covering the Plague Beast, “Yeah, but if we can’t get to the Relic than we can’t kill it.”

“It’s a temporary stop measure at best.” Locus’ voice remarked from behind Tucker, who barely avoided the blow meant to cleave his head from his body.

“Hey, asshole! That’s a dick move!” Tucker called out angrily when the steel and green-wearing mercenary rematerialized.

Matthews frowned slightly as he took in all of the fighting still going on. Sharkface was getting ready to blast Sarge and Lopez again…

He closed his eyes and concentrated, the river of fire suddenly turning into a sputtering, smoking gasp at the same time that Tucker’s energy blade sprouted to almost blindingly incandescent life.

“Whoa, dude! Thanks for the power up!” The Beast Folk beamed over appreciatively at the yellow-tinged Seas.

The timid young man smiled back shakily just as Sharkface dodged another of Sarge’s bullets as he raced towards the auburn-haired man’s direction—his secondary weapon, a sword, brandished. “You little energy thief!” He sneered, clearly pissed at the turn of events.

Matthews blanched as Bitters already turned in his direction to push the Seas out of the way…

Though it was Grif’s staff that blocked the actual sword blow, “You okay, kid?” The orange-wearing Orc asked, glancing quickly over his shoulder to see if Matthews was in fact all right.

“Uh-huh.” Matthews nodded his head earnestly, hazel eyes wide with awe, “Th—thank you, sir!”

Bitters had slid past Grif to forcibly shove Sharkface away. He barely even touched the Insurrection member, but the effect of his palm lightly making contact with his armor was the same as if he had put his entire body weight behind the effort, causing Sharkface to go flying back towards Lopez and Sarge, who were both circling around from behind.

“What the fuck is going on here?!?” South’s voice suddenly cut into the fray, her sword cutting through the guards that Doc had been holding back.

Doc let out a pained gasp of air, collapsing tiredly to his knees as his Floral Blast dissipated.

Donut was by the purple-wearing man’s side in a second, kneeling down on the ground next to him and grabbing his shoulder, “Doc!”

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up!” Tucker shouted in annoyance over at South, “What, did you fucking get lost after ditching us or something?”

“Oh, fuck off! You should just be grateful I came back at all for your sorry asses.” She muttered as she took up a fighting stance next to him across from Locus.

Grif and Simmons both spotted the other at the exact same minute, “Grif!” Simmons shouted, smiling in relief.

Grif smiled back in earnest, “Simmons!”

“Solo hazlo más obvio, ¿por qué no?” _{“Just make it more obvious, why don’t you?”}_

Felix stopped his assault on both Andersmith and Washington for a second to look over in Simmons’ direction rather unimpressively before scoffing, “Guess I should be thanking you for activating that Remnant.”

Simmons whipped his head around quickly in the mercenary’s direction, completely caught off-guard by the statement, “Wh—wha…?”

“Uh, guys?” Church’s voice was shaking as the pile of rubble began to move, “The dragon’s waking up.”

Tucker groaned in exasperation, “Oh, fuck this!” There was a gust of air as a cyan blur rushed past him then, and he nearly spun around due to how off-balance it put him.

“Damn it, I fucking hate when she does that! Little Miss Showoff.” South muttered under her breath, only furthering the teal-wearing man’s confusion.

“What…?”

A black, armored boot slammed into Locus’ chest plate then as the crimson visor of the person it belonged to turned in his direction, “ _Focus_ , Tucker!” Tex told him emphatically, pushing away from Locus to land on her feet effortlessly.

A dozen knives flew through the air at Sharkface, all but one disappearing when they made contact with the ground and wall as he managed to dodge. This very real one was suddenly held in C.T.’s hand as she very nearly lodged it into his shoulder.

“You fucking traitor!” Sharkface snarled at her.

C.T. drew back into a combative posture, “You can think whatever the fuck you want of me, Terrence, but I’m through being used by anyone.”

Carolina, meanwhile, had joined the fray against Felix, landing a volley of punches and kicks that left him collapsed on the floor. She nodded over at Washington, “Sorry it took so long, Wash.”

The blond tensed up slightly at her focus on him, still always the rookie around her, “Oh, er, that’s all right, boss.”

The redheaded woman gave Washington and Andersmith another sharp nod, “The two of you go and help deal with the Plague Beast. I’ll—”

“Do what, exactly?” Felix sneered up at her, jumping to his feet and already racing forward with another of his knives out, “Bleed everywhere?”

With her enhanced combat speed, Carolina was more than ready for his strikes, but the dragon breaking through the rubble and shooting flames in their direction while her back was turned was not part of the plan. To dodge the now white-hot flames, she had to turn her back to Felix, which led to the knife becoming embedded in the flesh just above her hip.

“Donut, on the double!” Sarge yelled out as the mercenaries and Plague Beast began circling them in.

Donut nodded tersely, Church stepping over to his side as he began to glow with a soft white light. In the next instant, the group of Guild members and their allies had disappeared from the ruins entirely.

*****

They were teleported to just outside of Rat’s Nest, which was apparently as far away as Donut was capable of getting such a large group of people even with Church giving him something of a power boost.

Donut staggered and collapsed onto the ground, a concerned Doc pulling the suddenly clammy younger man practically into his lap as he started to check him over.

Already, they could hear the distant sound of voices growing louder in pursuit, lights blaring to life all over the town. Damn it. They didn’t even really have the time to collect their thoughts or check up on everyone. They were still technically in enemy territory, after all.

Washington frowned as he surveyed the thick, forested terrain around them. Without thinking about why he did so, he patted Tucker’s shoulder once as he swept his eyes over everyone huddled together. The Beast Folk’s feline ears twitched slightly at the contact, but he otherwise didn’t react.

“We need to move. Now.” Washington stated emphatically, “We’ll have to deal with the more critical injuries on the road.”

Doctor Grey glanced up from her inspection of Carolina as if to protest given the injured woman’s condition, but Sarge looked into her eyes as he nodded his head in agreement with Washington’s assessment, “It’s not ideal and I’m not a fan of running from my enemies, but we’ll have to make do so we can fight another day.” Sarge finally let out.

Grey frowned momentarily, but returned the older man’s gaze and nodded her head in understanding before turning her attention back to her current patient as she attempted to at least try and get a handle on the bleeding before they continued.

Simmons and Grif both stared at one another, nearly reaching out and touching hands. It felt as if a _lot_ had happened since they had last seen one another, even though it had only been a few hours at the most.

“So what the fuck happened back there with you guys and that Florida weirdo?” Grif asked, unsure of how exactly to broach the topic of what he had experienced earlier through the Linking Magic.

“I—I’m not sure.” Simmons admitted honestly, turning with a worried frown in the direction of his also redheaded cousin, “Carolina…”

Grif did reach out to grip the maroon-wearing man’s shoulder reassuringly then, “Is going to be fine, Simmons.”

Thanks to the Linking Magic, the heavyset man knew that Simmons didn’t have enough energy to attempt to use his Healing Aura right now. The last thing the group needed was for Simmons to knock himself out by trying to heal Carolina. Grif was far too lazy to want to carry the kiss-ass’ deadweight on their escape route, and he maybe also didn’t want to see Simmons strain himself anymore that day.

The redhead nodded a moment later, biting his lip anxiously, “R—right.” He gave a weak but sincere smile in the Orc’s direction, “I…I’m glad you found Kai, Grif.”

“Me too.” Grif smiled back, his eyes landing on his little sister chatting energetically with Volleyball for a brief second.

The two men stood there, regarding one another for several minutes, unsure of what exactly to say next. Grif’s hand still rested on Simmons’ shoulder and his arm shook slightly as if he was resisting the urge to pull the human closer to him, and the two opened their mouths to speak at the same time though nothing came out.

“Simmons! Grif!” Sarge’s voice called out from further away, “Get moving or we’ll be leaving your lazy butts behind!”

The two men looked at one another once more, Grif giving Simmons’ shoulder a shaky but reassuring squeeze before they both pulled away to join the others in vacating the vicinity as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …I’m wondering why so many of my stories require lengthy action sequences when I am not the best at writing them, lol. XD Orz, I hope that wasn’t too terrible to read as a result, and I apologize if the ending feels a bit rushed comparatively.
> 
> We are actually getting really, _really_ close to the ending of the first volume of this AU duology! :D Just a few more chapters to go now. :) Haha, here’s to hoping that the actual ending to Volume I will be intriguing and not rage-inducing since I might take a bit of a break before starting Volume II (although I do have things planned for it already!). XD
> 
> Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read this! :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Vanessa Kimball paced the length of her office for the umpteenth time, annoyingly aware of the Unsc Embassy’s representative watching her motions as she did so. The slightly graying blond-haired human nervously tapped his twitchy fingers on her desk as if in rhythm with her steps.

Normally, a frustrated Kimball would have snapped at her _“guest”_ to knock off his anxious habit, but she currently lacked the energy to do so. Besides, Doyle had yet to remark on her pacing habit, so she supposed it was only fair for her to display a similar courtesy.

Briefly, the Seas woman with ice-colored tinge wondered just when the rather new representative’s presence at Guild Headquarters, much less her office, had become such a customary component in her life that she honestly was unsure if still describing him as a _“guest”_ was all that accurate.

Certainly _none_ of Doyle’s numerous predecessors, as none of the Unsc citizens who worked at the embassy seemed to find life in the Outer Regions charming enough to stay there for too long, had ever even wanted to step foot through the doorway, much less argue their way through several cups of tea with her. Besides Doyle, none of them had wanted to get actively involved in Guild matters at all. It had, at times, given her a level of freedom she had cherished. Still, the blatant show of indifference to matters not directly involving the Unsc had infuriated her to no end.

As a result, Kimball had at first found herself rather annoyed by Doyle’s insistence on staying abreast of Outer Region affairs. Suspicious of it, in fact. Now, however? Now, she wasn’t quite sure how to react to the fact that she had gotten more or less used to his presence here, or that she had even started to look forward to their heated debates.

Truly, that realization only caused her emotions to become all the more twisted and conflicted when it came to Donald Doyle, especially since she was well-aware of the growing rumors that had begun circulating about how the reason that Doyle had kept his position for so long was largely due to the two of them having become somewhat _“intimate”_ together. She didn’t know whether or not Doyle himself was aware of said rumors, though she knew that such topics, truthful or not, most likely did not put him in high regard with the empire.

Shaking her head to yet again dispel such thoughts, Kimball let out a frustrated sigh as her pacing stopped. Her brown eyes landed on the waning light pouring forth from the window overlooking the bustling city square below, colorful bursts of bright light occasionally flaring up like fireworks.

“I’m still uneasy about having sent everyone on that mission,” Kimball admitted at length, frowning in thought as she resisted the urge to pick up her pacing yet again, “Especially given how many unknown variables there were.”

The fact that communication had been more or less silent since the mission had begun was certainly adding to her sense of unease.

Doyle frowned himself as Kimball turned back around to face him. The human leaned forward and steepled his hands together over her desk, eyes regarding her carefully before he spoke. “It is quite unlike you to second guess your own plans, Miss Kimball.” He informed the brown-skinned Seas, “Your decisiveness is one of your most admirable traits.”

There was an awkward pause following that admission, as if Doyle’s spoken words had suddenly caught up to his brain. Kimball blinked, perplexed. Doyle’s face took on a decidedly crimson hue that reminded her of Sarge’s preferred color. He grimaced, opening his mouth to speak once more—

Only for the door to slam open behind the pair, cutting off any embarrassed flustering Doyle might have tried sputtering out just then.

It was North Dakota who entered into the room, his steps hurried with a rather serious expression plastered onto his face. Briefly, Kimball realized that the overly bright bursts of colorful light that she had seen in the darkening street outside her window must have been Tucker’s son, Junior, still hanging out with Theta. The somewhat older boy had no doubt been giving him a helping hand with his _“power up”_ ability. It also explained why North was alone now.

“Sarge just got into contact with us.” North Dakota noted without any preamble, “They could use some assistance.”

Kimball’s frown lengthened as Doyle stood up rather shakily from his seat, all earlier signs of him being flustered fading away as he did so. Well, she _had_ been worried about the lack of communication… The Guild leader quickly dispelled that thought from her mind, “What do they need?” She asked the former Freelancer sharply.

“From the sound of things, a pretty quick transport to just about anywhere away from their current location.” The violet and green-wearing agent informed her, clearly hoping for a prompt response.

Kimball nodded curtly, “Which they will get immediately.” She inclined her head slightly in North’s direction, “If you could sign out one of the Teleportation Orbs…”

“That’s already been taken care of courtesy of York and Delta.” North assured her with a slight, reassuring smile.

Kimball nodded her head gratefully once more, thankful for the Guild members’ quick thinking. She leaned over her desk with her webbed hands pressed against its cool surface as Doyle resumed his nervous twitching, deep in thought herself about this turn of events.

It didn’t sound as if the group had been in a position to make a lengthy report, but hopefully they would soon be able to gather a much clearer view on what the hell was going on exactly once they were all back at the Guild.

*****

The night air was rather chilly, filled with more tension than Wyoming personally cared for as he circled around his former Freelancer comrade at what he construed to be a safe distance. Well, safe _enough_ , at any rate.

From a safer distance, Gamma stood watch by the outskirts of the clearing they had made their way to following Florida’s suggestion that they find somewhere quiet to _“talk.”_ That had probably been a good suggestion on his part, as the sounds of a distant commotion coming from Rat’s Nest made its way over to them on the wind. Every so often, Gamma turned his head in that direction when there was so much as a tree branch breaking though, personally, Wyoming didn’t really feel the need to be so jumpy on account of whatever mess Charon had stumbled into because of Price’s designs.

No, rather, the man standing calmly in the middle of his circular pacing was the main reason why the white-armored mercenary was currently on edge. After all...

“I must admit, seeing you again is quite the pleasant surprise.” Wyoming heard himself say, focusing on the surprising sense of elation that he was currently feeling instead of the worry that the other shoe was about to fall, “I hadn’t expected that we would run into each other again following…” he paused, trying to come up with a more diplomatic choice of words, always a must in his new profession in particular he had found, “How we parted ways.”

Florida raised a brown-haired eyebrow in mild amusement, his eyes never leaving the other Freelancer’s form, “Are you referring to when you left in order to pursue more _“lucrative”_ career options?”

There was no trace of accusation or hurt in the blue-wearing man’s voice then, but Wyoming flinched at the reminder all the same. However, he tried covering that particular slipup with a careless shrug of his shoulders, “Well, it hardly made sense to stay dirt poor just because that blasted project fell through.”

“That is correct, Reggie.” Gamma agreed in his monotone way of speaking, eerily white eyes fixated on the underbrush.

The other man let loose a sigh and shook his head, “That response is just so very like you, Reginald.”

There was a slight tinge of hurt in Florida’s words then that gave Wyoming a momentary pause, “You used to love that side of me, as I recall.” He stated softly.

Gamma was very much looking pointedly away now, as Florida pierced Wyoming with his gaze and smiled slightly, “A part of me still does.” He admitted out loud with ease, as if talking about the weather.

The admission was enough to cause Wyoming to stare back at him in open astonishment. As much as Florida bent the truth for his missions or outright lied for them, the mercenary had never known him to be anything but open when it came to his emotions, whenever he cared enough to actually put them on display that is.

Florida’s back straightened ever-so-slightly, the momentary glimmer of fondness that he had allowed to show in his eyes hardening in the same instance, “At any rate, that sentiment of yours certainly makes things easier.”

Wyoming and Gamma shared a perplexed look at the brown-haired man’s words, the Fragment rather unhelpfully shrugging his shoulders in response.

“What would you say, Reggie, if I could get you a job with a much larger paycheck than what Charon is paying the two of you currently?” Florida asked him, a smirk crossing over his features as he unhooked his axe, “All you would need to do is prove your worth.”

Wyoming raised an eyebrow, rather intrigued by the notion, “I’m listening.” He muttered, mustache twitching in anticipation as he drew out his own weapon, “But it will have to be quite an impressive number you’re talking about.”

*****

South Dakota fucking hated using the Teleportation Orbs to travel, largely due to the numerous hassles that their limitations often meant having to put up with. But, without a conveniently located airfield anywhere remotely close to Rat’s Nest and Donut’s ability to teleport long distances with a large group of people apparently pretty much nonexistent at the moment, beggars really couldn’t be choosers, you know?

So, when her armored boots landed with a heavy thud on the ground, she bit back the complaints that were just about ready to stream off her tongue. However, South did roll her eyes at how Washington somehow managed to stumble even though he was only a mere meter off the ground, crashing with a barely suppressed yelp right into his built-to-always-land-on-his-feet not-boyfriend Tucker. The Beast Folk had to rather tightly wrap his arms around Washington’s waist to steady the blond and to keep them both from falling, the Seas instinctively doing the same as they stared wide-eyed into the other’s faces, mere centimeters apart…

South rolled her eyes for a second time. She was _far_ too sober for this shit. “Hey, morons,” she called over to the stunned pair, “Save it until you get a fucking room, all right?”

_That_ got the two moving, and she smirked somewhat at how quickly they pulled apart while pointedly looking anywhere but at each other, blushes still on their faces. With a looming scowl, the orchid-armored human female glanced around at the others.

C.T. was busily pulling a rather hapless Simmons to his feet from where he had fallen face first onto the ground, a curious _“And you say this happens_ every _time?”_ coming out of the brown-armored Freelancer’s lips as she tried to conceal her mild amusement.

The heavyset Orc, Grif, that seemed stuck to the redhead’s side like glue gave Simmons a pat on the back as the maroon-wearing man stuttered out a low-sounding remark to the petite brunette complete with a thankful nod before scampering off to check on his cousin. Grif watched Simmons with what almost looked like trepidation. _Relationship drama_ , she mouthed to C.T. when she caught the woman’s eyes.

Grif’s sister flitted over to stand beside her brother then, remarking in a loud voice how _“It always feels like you drank a shit-ton of booze when you use those things, just without any of the fun consequences afterwards!”_

Grif sighed, his dark eyes still following Simmons even as he rolled them while he exclaimed in a rather loud voice for everyone in the vicinity to hear, “Goddamn it, Kai!”

Bored of the sibling dispute, South turned her attention to the two junior Guild members or whatever they were, Volleyball and Palomo. They were talking to the people she vaguely recognized as Filss, Sheila, Lopez, and Sarge. Nearby them, Andersmith was standing with his charge, Jensen, as well as the Bitters and Matthews kids. The four looked rather out-of-place just then, as if they had stumbled upon the group of fighters by accident.

Her eyes drifted towards Donut, who was tiredly leaning against the tree that Doc had moved him to before the medic had gone to check on the injured Carolina. The pink-wearing man was obviously drained from his earlier teleportation stunt, but as long as he was still breathing South didn’t really care too much.

C.T. caught her eye again just as Tucker and Washington had gotten over their flustered state of denial enough to check up on the rather weary dirty blond themselves. She gave a small sort-of smile as she began to walk over to the other woman…

South turned her head sharply to the side to ignore the sudden trill in her chest. She did not need to be dealing with emotions she had repressed a long time ago right now, damn it! Unfortunately, the action of swiveling her neck only caused her to take in the scenery of the rundown town they had teleported into.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.” South mumbled under her breath, recognizing the no-name village she had met Florida in when she had first walked into this whole fucked-up mess, “This shithole again?!?”

“Beggars really can’t be choosers, you know.” An infuriatingly familiar voice quipped up just then, South’s ice blue eyes zoning in on York and his sidekick Delta a few meters away, “Especially not when you need some place quiet and out of the way in order to avoid detection for a few days.”

“Oh, fuck off, York.” South said as she rolled her eyes and gave him the finger for good measure.

…Of fucking _course_ York would be involved in this somehow. It was starting to turn into a regular Freelancer reunion. She bitterly wondered who else from her past might inexplicably show up. The thought of her brother suddenly appearing with Theta in tow made her sick.

“Always a pleasure, South.” York muttered sarcastically back at her, “Truly.”

“We had also been making our way here on an assignment when the call for assistance reached us.” Delta ignored the enmity between the two former Freelancers, “I apologize for any discomfort, Agent South.”

“Yeah fucking right.” South scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

York narrowed his one good eye at the orchid-wearing woman, clearly not liking her rudeness towards his emotional replicant friend, “You know, South, I almost forgot just how much of a—”

But he stopped abruptly at a commotion behind them. South turned her head in that direction as well when she saw the tan-armored man’s face pale considerably in alarm.

Doctor Grey and Doc were both leaning over Carolina, the foxlike Beast Folk pressing her hands tightly over one of the cyan-wearing woman’s hands where it was lying against her stab wound. All three hands were covered in blood. The two healers were conferring in hushed tones with one another while Church and Simmons hovered nervously close by their remaining family member, Church’s restraining hand on Simmons’ arm in an attempt to keep him from using his healing powers as well since the redhead was clearly too exhausted to assist. Tex stood directly behind Church, her hand clasped tightly onto his shoulder while her other one gripped Caboose’s as well while Four Seven Niner tried reassuring her anxious brother with quiet words.

“Carolina!” York rushed past South in a hurry while South rolled her eyes again as she followed because _that_ fucking figured, “What happened?” He asked the group at large.

“It’s…a long story, York.” Carolina managed to get out through gritted teeth, “But I’m _fine_.”

Doctor Grey rolled her dark eyes at the redhead’s rather adamant tone, “Hardly.” She stated, pointedly ignoring the pain-filled glare that Carolina sent her way as she turned to York instead now that he had bent down to grip Carolina’s free hand with his own tightly, “Is there perhaps an inn anywhere close by where we could get her looked over properly?”

York reluctantly stood up once more, both he and South saying _“Yes.”_ at the exact same time. The two glared at one another briefly before York tore his gaze away to help move Carolina.

*****

Dexter Grif watched Kai tag along with Volleyball and the other younger members of their ragtag traveling party as they began to make their way in the direction of the inn that South and York both apparently knew about.

The orange-wearing man had to admit, if the situation weren’t so dire, the sight of the two former Freelancers trying to constantly elbow one another to get to the front of the line would have been absolutely hilarious.

He did, however, actually have to stifle his laughter when Doctor Grey got fed up with them and threatened that she would well and goodly make sure they would both need medical attention themselves if they so much as _jostled_ Carolina while York and several others were trying to move her. That comment was apparently enough to get both South and York to quiet down, perhaps sensing just how capable the dark-skinned woman was at carrying out such a threat.

The Orc could see Kai’s wings fluttering happily behind her back as she always had the habit of doing when she was excited over something, the half-Orc and half-Beast Folk gesturing animatedly at something that Volleyball had just said to her. He couldn’t help but smile slightly and shake his head. His little sister definitely moved _fast_ when someone caught her eye. Grif was already trying to calculate what the odds of her getting pregnant would be _this_ time in his head, though he had to stop, as always, due to the increasing ways his brain constantly threatened to break over the absurd-yet-altogether-oddly-real chances of that occurring.

After all, Kai was always, _always_ full of surprises.

Grif took the rather sluggish pace the group was going in as an opportunity to scan his eyes over the village proper, frowning at what he saw. The nondescript ramshackle buildings could belong to any other poor village in the Outer Regions. Fuck, it brought to mind his and Kai’s own town for instance. But, there was something oddly familiar about the place they were currently in too, something that he couldn’t quite write off completely as being just passingly familiar.

There was a sense that he had walked this very road once before, that Grif had seen that very same Seas shopkeeper who was currently scowling at their group of newcomers from behind a grimy window. His feet seemed to stop moving on their own accord as a chillingly cold realization swept over him.

He _had_ been here before, in fact. On a mission for Charon.

The sudden spike in his nerves at the realization was not evidently lost on Simmons. Grif hadn’t exactly mastered concealing very unexpected bursts of emotions from the bond that the Linking Magic had created between the two of them as well as he could lingering ones. The maroon-wearing human paused from his hesitant, anxiety-ridden trailing after his wounded relative to glance over towards Grif in concern.

“Grif? What’s wrong?” Simmons’ voice was still too quiet and contemplative, still too tired and worried sounding all at once for Grif’s liking. He didn’t even really need the Linking Magic to be able to sense all of the conflicting emotions that had been radiating off of the redhead in waves since the battle at Rat’s Nest, the reasons as to _why_ Simmons felt that way were something Grif desperately wanted to know but wasn’t sure when or how to ask about.

Grif felt oddly touched at the display of worry being thrown his way by Simmons, and his lips curved upwards in a slight smile as a result, “It’s nothing.” He reassured the human, inclining his head slightly in the direction of the slow-moving group that was getting farther away from them, “You should stay with your cousin, Simmons. I’m going to scout the area.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. He _was_ planning on scouting a rather specific area around the village at least, in order to confirm his suspicions about where they were. But, not telling the full truth of the matter to the nerd who was clearly just worried over everything at the moment made him feel a bit guilty.

That _may_ have worked in the chubby man’s favor though, because a skeptical look crossed over Simmons’ features as he regarded Grif, “Uh-huh. And by _“scout”_ do you mean get food?”

Grif chuckled, “You know me too well, Simmons.” When the human looked as though he were about to argue against such an action, the Orc quickly shook his head, “I’ll be fine. Just need to decompress a bit after all of that, you know?” He told the redhead, “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Simmons must have really been just as exhausted and worried as he was so very loudly broadcasting himself to be to Grif through their Linking Magic connection because, while he looked conflicted over Grif’s idea, he merely bit his lip anxiously and cast a furtive glance back towards the others.

Grif felt horrible for having not been truthful about what he was doing, but he schooled his expression into a careless one and tried to bury his suspicions under layers of feigned calmness. Right now, even though it majorly sucked, the only thing he could really do for the lanky human was to try to not upset him further.

“All right.” Simmons finally stated at length before turning back in the direction of the group. He paused, however, to look over his shoulder and pin the Orc with a pointed stare, “But just…hurry back soon, all right, fat-ass? You haven’t had a proper reunion with Kai yet.”

The smile that Grif gave at Simmons’ obvious concern for his sibling was a genuine one, “I know, kiss-ass.” He told him before adding softly, “And it seems like there’s something _you_ might need to get off your chest too, am I right?”

“I—I…!” There was an obvious spark of anxiety that came from Simmons then, and he couldn’t quite meet Grif’s eyes. He cast his green-eyed gaze to the ground and reluctantly nodded instead.

“It’ll be okay, Simmons.” Grif took a step closer to the pale-skinned man, fighting the urge to reach out again and touch his shoulder as he continued speaking in a reassuring tone, “We’ll talk when you’re ready, okay?”

Simmons marginally relaxed, nodding his head a tiny fraction in response. The tan-skinned man waited until Simmons tentatively began following the others once more before he let his smile falter and he stepped off the main road of the village with purposeful strides.

The Orc made his way to the thick forest on the outskirts of the settlement, glancing cautiously to and fro. It seemed that they hadn’t been followed here directly from Rat’s Nest. But, if his suspicions were right…

His frown deepened as he made his way through the brush, eventually stepping onto an already fading narrow path that he had traveled on once before during a mission.

Grif swallowed heavily, a lump in his throat as he retraced his steps through the dense foliage. The Orc mission camp had been right around here.

That’s when he spotted what he was looking for just under a few carelessly strewn rocks that served as concealment to any ignorant passersby…

The Relic Communicator glowed to warm, brilliant light in his hands despite its dirt-covered appearance, a calm voice issuing forth from it as though Grif stumbling back onto this site had been completely anticipated.

_“I take it you have something to report about our missing Guild friends, Agent?”_ Aiden Price asked.

Grif didn’t bother saying a word in response, though he supposed that blowing up the communicator like he did was probably enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter reads a bit rushed at parts as this chapter pretty much serves as an immediate follow-up to the events of the previous one. I have been feeling oddly lethargic the last couple of days, and I’m hoping I’m not coming down with something! *crosses fingers*
> 
> Only three more chapters to go before the ending of Volume I! :D The upcoming chapters will focus on everyone licking their wounds and more interactions, along with some reveals and turning points in the plot that will help to set the stage for what will be coming up in the second volume of this fic. :) I might just try to get the remaining chapters out as quickly as I can before going back to my other WIPs since I am so close to being done with Volume I, but don’t worry! I will definitely still be updating all of them as soon as I can! :D
> 
> Thank you for keeping up with this rambling, odd story of mine. I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year! :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The double doors to the tavern closed shut behind C.T. with a gust of air, and she crinkled her nose slightly at the far too familiar smells and noises that assaulted her senses. It seemed as if, no matter where you were exactly, the rowdy watering holes of any given town or village were the same and clearly the spot to be following a day of hard labor.

While not exactly her personal ideal spot to hang out in, taverns did serve as good places to conceal conversations or meetings you might not want overheard. Or they were the perfect places to be alone with your thoughts while appearing for all the world not to be. The brunette had made ample use of establishments such as this for both reasons in the past.

Though tonight, all things considered, that really wasn’t the point of her visit to this particular one.

No, rather she was here for… _ah-hah! There she was!_ C.T.’s expression tilted upwards into a slight curve of a smile when she spotted the tall, intimidating platinum blonde with orchid tipped hair hunched over a spot at the bar as if she owned the space. Other patrons were moving quickly away from the woman due to her _“don’t bother me”_ body language and the withering scowl that she no doubt sported. South Dakota, ever a people person.

South had not bothered sticking around after they had reached the inn earlier that night, claiming that the building was far too crowded with people she _“didn’t really fucking care to get reacquainted with, and others she didn’t fucking want to attempt to get to know more than she already did.”_ When South had caught C.T.’s questioning glance as she stalked off, she paused long enough to inform her former teammate that she would be _“drowning her sorrows or however-else-people-described-drinking-a-shit-ton-of-booze.”_

Once things had stabilized over at the inn, at least as much as they were likely to considering that the innkeeper had been both alarmed given their party’s condition as well as overjoyed at the prospect of the lucrative payment a group their size would pay, C.T. had stepped outside to find the wayward soul. If only because maybe, just _maybe_ , she was also trying to avoid some awkward conversations for as long as she could. Yes, she could definitely understand South’s reasoning wholeheartedly.

Making her way over to the bar, the petite brunette instinctively raised an eyebrow as she peered at the myriad assortment of empty bottles and glasses already stacked up in front of the other woman. “So, tell me, are you planning on actually staying at all conscious for the next few days?” C.T. couldn’t help but tease considering that it had just been a little over an hour since she had last seen South, “Shouldn’t you be pacing yourself?”

South’s back stiffened slightly at the sound of C.T.’s voice, but she relaxed a second later when C.T. climbed up onto the stool on her left. In fact, a slight smirk pursed her lips when C.T. cast her eyes in the direction of the woman in orchid and green armor again, “Getting into a drunken stupor while being stuck out in the ass end of nowhere isn’t actually such a bad idea.”

C.T. rolled her eyes, having not forgotten the flair for dramatics that the taller warrior was capable of. She watched as the bartender silently placed a full glass in front of South once more following a quick hand gesture from the Freelancer to keep them coming. The brunette watched as the other woman tilted her head back as far as it would go to drown the liquid content of the glass in just one swig.

“You know,” C.T. approached the topic in as casual a manner as possible while watching South set the now empty glass back down on the counter with a barely heard clink as it hit against another of the empty glasses, “If it weren’t for you helping out like you did, we might not have gotten out of there.”

After all, as the brown-armored woman had learned recently, it was South who had retrieved Simmons and Donut. Without the pink-wearing man’s teleportation ability in particular, escape would have been all the more difficult for the entire group.

South grimaced at C.T.’s words, eyes glued onto the counter as she impatiently tapped out some unknown rhythm on its splintery surface, “You can save your thanks for someone who would actually give a fuck.”

Well, she wouldn’t be the South Dakota that she knew and, against her better judgement, loved if she didn’t have that prickly personality of hers. C.T. had long ago figured out how to remain nonplussed by it. “Why did you do it then?” She asked instead.

South shrugged, ice blue eyes narrowing in frustration at nothing in particular as she downed another beverage, “Hell if I know. The whole thing fucking pisses me off to no end.”

C.T. decided not to remark on that. Far be it for her to try and put motivations onto someone else’s actions when they themselves weren’t entirely sure what they were. Besides, she knew South well enough to know that such a gesture would not go over well with her.

The barkeep put two glasses of tawny liquid down this time, one clearly intended for her despite how she had not placed an order. C.T. assumed he was of the mindset that if one was occupying space in his establishment, then they had best be a paying customer.

The brunette kept her eyes fixed on the glass, hand ready to dart forward in case South was under the mistaken assumption that it was up for grabs once she finished hers, “Even without any healing magic speeding things up, Carolina should be more or less fine within the next few days.”

“You know,” South said as she snorted at this new spot of information, “Getting the chance to see a lovesick York play the part of a frantic nursemaid _might_ just be worth sticking around for.”

C.T. opened her mouth to comment when she caught sight of the orange-armored Grif making his way over to the opposite end of the bar. The Orc leaned over the counter to order something from the barkeep, catching her gaze and giving her a quick nod of greeting.

She returned the gesture. It made sense that she and South wouldn’t be the only ones out of their party who might need some liquid courage following recent events.

C.T. turned back to South, a contemplative frown settling on her features as she took in the other woman’s face, “You know that North will probably show up soon.”

There was only a momentary glint of something decidedly sharp in South’s faraway gaze at the mention of her sibling. She took another swig from her glass, “Which is all the more reason for me to drink myself into a damn coma sooner rather than later.”

C.T. grinned at the joke, “Would you mind some company, then?”

South paused in bringing the cup back to her lips for some reason, her eyes slightly widening in surprise at the brunette’s offer. Then, as if remembering just how often C.T. had been able to hold her liquor right along with her whenever they had gone out drinking together following hectic training sessions or missions despite her smaller stature, South shot her the first genuine smile that C.T. had seen on her face since they had met up again. The expression caused the brown-armored woman’s breath to hitch momentarily in her own throat.

“Knock yourself out.” South finally told her, raising her glass in the other woman’s direction as if in a toast.

C.T. smiled right back at South, her own glass clinking strongly against South’s not a second later.

*****

Lavernius Tucker sat on a bench located in the hallway just outside of the room that their party had ushered Carolina into pretty much immediately after making it to the inn.

Given how small a village it was that they had wandered into, it was no surprise that the building was also pretty tiny as all fuck. There were only two floors even! Doctor Grey had nearly ripped the poor, befuddled inn owner’s head off at the suggestion of taking Carolina to an upstairs room to avoid noise pollution.

The inns back at Blood Gulch had more rooms, and that location had originally been what Tucker would have defined as _“in the ass end of the middle of nowhere.”_ This inn’s first floor only had three rooms to it, not counting the small kitchen and dining area, or where the innkeeper and their family slept. The upstairs wasn’t much better, with apparently five rooms. Two of which, Palomo had exclaimed loudly when giving his report earlier, were _“pretty fucking tiny, sir!”_

Well, so, what if that meant things would be a little crowded? They were pretty damn fortunate this place had as many rooms as it did have, or that this small as fuck town even had accommodations for travelers in the first place. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t shared rooms on missions before.

Tucker pointedly ignored how warm his cheeks got as he thought of Washington’s webbed fingers running over his hair again, nicely massaging his ears even. Reflexively, his feline ears twitched ever-so-slightly at that particular thread of memory, as if he were still reliving the not-at-all unpleasant sensations. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head readily to dispel the thought completely.

When the heat finally started to dissipate from his face, the Beast Folk figured it was safe enough to open his eyes once more. He was greeted with the sight of the dwarven pair of siblings, Caboose and the oddly named Four Seven Niner, sitting on one of the beds together in the room on the opposite side of the hallway. The door had been closed before, so someone had probably stepped outside while he was busy having his internal freak-out over having woken up to Washington petting him _again_ , and had decided to leave it open so as to discreetly sneak away before Tucker did anything even weirder.

Four Seven Niner was smiling slightly, no doubt in response to the huge grin currently plastered on the large blond’s face as he showed off Freckles to his older sister.

Tucker felt his own mouth twitch upwards slightly as he averted his gaze. No doubt the family had some catching up to do, and he didn’t want to play the part of an eavesdropping asshole just then. Which was part of the reason as to why he was even sitting on the bench in the first place. Andersmith and Jensen had taken over the other spare room on this floor for their own family reunion while everybody else who was not currently with Carolina were pretty much all around the inn. He had wanted to be close to the action anyways, so to speak. _Bow-chicka-bow-wow._

This mission had certainly turned into a lively one though! He was already running over things again in his brain to try and figure out which parts would be the most exciting to share with Junior when they got back. The kid always loved hearing about his dad’s heroic and badass exploits.

The door beside the bench opened then, an even more haggard-looking than usual Church stepping out. The goateed man cast a look at Tucker sitting in the middle of the bench and glared, “Move it.”

Tucker made a face but complied anyway, sliding off to the side to make more room, “Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.”

There had been no bite in either of their remarks, just the usual routine the two friends always had with one another. Church slumped down onto the bench next to Tucker, closing his eyes as he did so.

Tucker waited a few seconds before the nervous anticipation became too much, “How’s your sister doing?”

“Given how much of a fighter she is, Carolina should be fine in a few days.” Church informed the Beast Folk without opening his eyes, “Even with Simmons being too drained of energy right now to throw his healing power into the mix.”

Right. They had all noticed how strangely tired Simmons had been ever since he, South, and Donut had met up with their group again underneath the ruins at Rat’s Nest. Doctor Grey had ordered him to try to keep his Healing Aura at bay until she could examine him more closely, lest the redhead make the situation even worse on all of them by attempting to help when his own body perhaps wasn’t ready for him to do so. After all, she and Doc had everything under control at the moment.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Tucker told the cobalt-wearing man sincerely, grinning reassuringly a moment later, “I bet it will only turn out to be two days or some shit because _nothing_ keeps Carolina down for long.”

Church snorted, “Nice try, Tucker. But, I know my sister well enough not to place a sucker’s bet.”

Well, at least Church seemed fairly positive that Carolina would make a speedy recovery then. He was fucking relieved. Mopey, gloomy, sullen, _and_ stressed Church was definitely harder to deal with than regular old sullen and stressed Church was.

“So, you just couldn’t wait to share the news then?” Tucker teased, now that he knew things with Carolina were about as okay as they were going to get.

Church opened his eyes only to roll them, “Hardly.” He muttered as he shifted on the bench to get more comfortable, “Things were way too crowded in there with Grey, Doc, Simmons, Tex, York, _and_ Delta all up in my space. I just needed a fucking breather.”

That clearly hadn’t stopped the dark-haired man from hanging around until he had been absolutely sure that his older sister was going to be all right though, Tucker noted. But, he knew enough about Church’s personality to leave that particular observation unsaid.

There was a sharp bark of laughter from behind them, followed by a scary-as-all-hell voice: “Wow, I had no idea you were _that_ much of a wuss.”

Tex closed the door to Carolina’s recovery room, not even bothering to cover up the smirk she was throwing Church’s way.

The cobalt-wearing man sputtered indignantly, “I…you…!”

Tucker grinned at how red-faced his friend had become before turning his attention to the blonde, “Does that mean you’re thinking about dumping him again?”

Church shot him an affronted glare he was quick to smirk right back at as Tex crossed her arms over her chest, “Maybe.” She looked rather mock-thoughtful at the notion, “But I’d have to recheck the calendar to see whether or not I’d win the betting pool.”

“Oh, fuck you both!” Church finally managed to heave out before looking pointedly in his girlfriend’s direction, “And you’re _still_ voting against your own relationship?”

Tex shrugged in response, brown eyes glinting mischievously as Church groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Lighten up, dude!” Tucker patted his shoulder consolingly, “You have to admit that would be easy money to make.”

Church didn’t bother looking up from his bent over position, though he did free one hand to give Tucker the finger.

Tex laughed sharply again, taking the opportunity to grab Church’s outstretched hand, “We should go somewhere private.” She told him softly.

The frustration that had been steadily building up in Church seemed to melt away in eager, hopeful anticipation at her words. His blue eyes met her brown ones and he nodded vigorously.

Tucker whistled at the obvious atmospheric change in the hallway, “Well, I can totally take a hint when I’m not wanted.”

He ignored the joint _“You can?”_ that erupted incredulously from the pair.

…Washington was now conversing with Four Seven Niner and Caboose in the room across the hallway, the gray-skinned and yellow-tinged Seas trying awkwardly to get out of the younger man’s insistence that he hold Freckles. Washington backed away from the doorway with his hands up while Caboose shoved the talking weapon in his direction while saying how _“petting animals helps you feel better!”_ The scene was both absolutely hilarious _and_ endearing somehow. The female airship pilot was laughing loudly at Washington’s expense, clearly entertained by his discomfort.

Tucker’s curiosity as to when that had occurred and why it was happening at all was piqued, but he wasn’t sure if his intruding on the conversation would be all that welcome. Besides, he had learned the hard way that catching Freckles by surprise in particular wasn’t the smartest thing to do, so the teal-wearing man figured that it was a safer bet to head outside for some fresh air instead.

*****

“Dex!”

Dexter Grif stopped in his tracks in the doorway of the inn at the sound of his sister’s loud exclamation. He let out a sigh before turning to face the younger, winged woman since he already had a sneaking suspicion of where this conversation would go. It was a pretty good guess considering he’d entered the building with two cases of bottled ale under each arm.

Kai had been sitting in the dining area of the inn with Volleyball, Palomo, Matthews, and Bitters. Poor Palomo looked slightly out-of-place amidst the group despite the goofy, good-natured smile that had been on his face as he had been in the middle of talking when Kai had noticed the Orc trying to sneak inside.

It wasn’t all too surprising to see why Palomo might be the odd man out considering that Bitters and Matthews had, either subconsciously or not, pulled their chairs so close together their shoulders were practically touching on the opposite side of the table. Plus, the fact that Volleyball and Kai appeared to be sharing some kind of baked good together was not lost on the Orc either. After all, the sharing of food was one of the ultimate signs of affection a Grif could display, Dexter and Kai’s mother had always said.

Nor was the brief but oddly lingering hand on the blond human’s elbow as Kai practically flew from her seat over to her brother lost on Grif either.

“Where the fuck have you been, asshole?” Kai demanded as her feet set down on the ground once more. Her wings flicked back and forth behind her in an excited manner when her dark eyes landed on the cases of alcohol he was carrying, “Though I _suppose_ I can forgive you if you’re planning to throw one hell of a reunion party!”

She reached out eagerly towards one of the cases, grinning widely with dark eyes shining in anticipation, but her older sibling stepped back just out of reach with a roll of his eyes. “Nice try, but these aren’t for you.” Grif told her plainly.

The tan-skinned girl pouted before she shot him a rather knowing, assessing look that made the orange-wearing man regret having run into her while carrying these things all over again.

“I really don’t think you need to ply the gray nerd with booze anymore to get to the next stage, Dex.” Kai joked, a sly smirk crossing over her features as she waggled an eyebrow to further hit home her point.

Despite himself, Grif felt his face growing incredibly hot at the teasing remark. Damn it, why was his little sister so good at reading him like a fucking book! “That’s not what I’m doing, Kai!” He let out in a hushed breath, “I just figured that his nerves are shot given what happened to his cousin.”

It sounded just as lame and pathetic coming out of his mouth as when he had first thought up the idea upon heading back into town, his own nerves rather shot himself at having found the Relic Communicator.

The good news? He didn’t think their group could be tracked through the device, but it was obvious an active search was currently ongoing. It would take a while for anyone from Charon to find them here though, given how remote the location was. Grif figured that he would let everyone catch their breath tonight before giving them the news.

Kai shrugged her shoulders at his surprisingly embarrassed reaction, “Hey, no judgement here.” She informed the older Grif before nodding her head slightly in the booze’s direction, “Though I do think you’re a stingy asshole for not sharing.”

There was a momentary lull in the conversation, Grif taking the moment to look his little sister over. There were torn patches on her clothes. Smudges of dirt and soot smeared the fabric as well as her skin. Some of the spots even dulled the yellow lines of her Orc lineage. Kai had some visible small cuts and slight bruising in various places too.

All in all, Grif knew she could have been in much worse physical condition. But, the sight was still enough to twist his stomach into knots, to feel all the more guilty that he hadn’t been around to help. “How are you doing, Kai?” He finally asked her in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

The young woman squared her shoulders, letting out a huff of air, “Oh, fucking _please_. I’m a Grif and we’re strong!” Kai tried convincing him, but her false bravado only lasted for a second under the full force of Grif’s knowing stare and she folded in on herself—delicate wings bending downwards with the motion. “The whole thing sucked major ass and I totally missed you, okay?” She mumbled under her breath, “Happy now, bitch?”

The return of the defiant jut of her jaw at that last question had him smiling softly, “I missed you too, Kai.” Grif admitted, “I was really fucking impressed by how strong you were.”

A momentary spark of disbelief flashed across Kai’s face, but it melted away when she saw how genuine Grif’s comment was.

The two siblings smiled at one another before Grif was caught by surprise when Kai lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, warm hug. He hesitated for only a moment before dropping the cases of alcohol with a heavy thud on the floor to return the gesture.

As they pulled apart, Kai grinned mischievously up at her brother, “This calls for a celebration!” She exclaimed, reaching down towards one of the bottles.

“Not a fucking chance.” Grif deftly pulled the cases out of her reach before lifting them up again. Thankfully, they were packed sturdily enough that the bottles had kept from breaking.

_“Aw, you suck!”_ was heard all over the inn.

*****

“I keep telling you, I am _fine_.” Carolina insisted once again through gritted teeth as the door closed behind Doctor Grey and Doc.

Richard “Dick” Simmons sat at the windowsill, trying to contemplate how he could potentially avoid his upcoming checkup with Doctor Grey for just a little while longer. He was feeling too overwhelmed currently to want to dredge up what had happened again, despite knowing that what he had experienced could be important. Still, that didn’t prevent a part of him from feeling extremely guilty. He wanted to help Carolina as quickly as possible, and a medical checkup was the only way he would get the Beast Folk healer’s permission to do so.

Delta tried to make himself appear as inconspicuous as possible on the other side of the room while his human partner hovered by Carolina’s shoulder as he had been doing ever since they had arrived here, save for when one of the healers had instructed him to do otherwise. Given Carolina’s tone and expression at the moment, they had probably feared for the brown-haired man’s safety.

York, however, snorted at Carolina’s comment, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the heavy bandaging wrapped around her side now, “Sorry, Carolina, but even _you_ can’t bluff your way out of an injury like that.”

Carolina’s green eyes narrowed up at him before she tried switching tactics, “You _know_ how good I am at bluffing, York.”

“Well,” the Freelancer male said as he raised an eyebrow, mouth curving upwards ever so slightly, “I do know playing cards with you is a surefire way to have to walk down a hallway naked.”

The fond, reminiscent gazes of the two former Freelancers caused them to look deeply at each other as if to take everything in at that very moment. The action was not at all lost on either Delta or Simmons just then since it made the air in the room suddenly feel suppressively stuffy and all sorts of awkward.

Simmons knew that there were a lot of things that lay between York and his cousin from their shared past, and that there were undoubtedly emotions still lingering that needed to be talked about or explored in the present. Given the atmosphere of this inn room, it needed to be sooner rather than later.

Delta’s green eyes, so much like his own and Carolina’s now that he thought about it, met his own. The Fragment gave a curt nod and Simmons swallowed nervously before nodding back in response himself. They were in agreement then.

…Suddenly, the two younger men headed to the door at a very brisk pace.

Delta beat Simmons to the exit first, hand loose around the doorknob before he turned to face the pair at the bed, “I believe it would be prudent of me to check on the various statuses of the others, as well as see how Sarge and Lopez’s preparations are advancing for North and Theta’s later trip here.”

York’s good eye never left drinking in Carolina’s face, “Sure thing, D.”

Delta nodded slightly at the confirmation before making his escape.

Simmons frowned, trying to rack his tired brain for a good excuse to leave too. Should he go and get Carolina some water or something? No, he’d possibly have to come back to the room then and they could either be talking about really private matters, or in the middle of doing something he would rather not walk in on.

The redhead could try and find out where in the world Donut was currently hiding, especially since the two of them had a lot to discuss now despite how he sort of wanted to avoid thinking about all of that for a little while longer. Or, maybe he could see how Sheila and Filss were faring since his friends from the Unsc had reunited. But, what if they wanted the chance to catch up as a family by themselves?

Simmons sighed, figuring that maybe he just needed to go find Doctor Grey and get the medical examination over with. After all, she could possibly give him some more insight on what had truly happened when he had touched the Remnant.

The maroon-wearing Magic User had more or less resigned himself to his fate when the door to Carolina’s room opened from the other side.

Grif popped his head into the room, blinking in surprise at finding Simmons standing directly in front of him. Simmons couldn’t help but do much of the same, completely caught unawares by this turn of events given how he had lost track of his environment while simply pondering his own anxieties.

“Hey,” Grif called out to the others in the room a second later, dispelling the odd air still hanging heavily around them as he did so, “Mind if I borrow Simmons for a little while?”

Carolina pursed her lips, a disapproving look crossing over her features when she noticed what the Orc was trying to hide behind his back, but she gave a slight nod of affirmation all the same when York squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“You two have fun, I’ll keep your cousin company in the meanwhile.” York said as he grinned over at Simmons and actually _winked_ at him, as if he thought there was some deep secret going on.

Given the tension that had been in the room before, Simmons had no doubt that York would be true to his word. His face turned red as he tried desperately to get that train of thought out of his brain, wavering in indecision as he did so. He wanted to go and give the two some much-needed privacy, but what if Carolina needed something or…?

“Go on, Simmons.” Carolina assured her cousin with the same soft, encouraging smile she had used around him and Church as kids when they had been scared to do something, “I’ll be fine enough with York here.”

Simmons left the room with a silent nod then, casting a thankful look over in Grif’s direction once they were out in the hallway with the door securely closed behind them.

Grif shrugged in return, “It looked as if they could use a private moment anyways.” He said with a knowing smirk, almost as if he could hear Tucker’s _“Bow-chicka-bow-wow!”_ in the distance.

Simmons felt his face heating up again at the reminder, “Oh…o—oh, yeah. Definitely.” It was then that he caught sight of what Grif was carrying that had piqued Carolina’s attention before, “I—is that liquor?” The human asked in disbelief, remembering what Grif had told him about _why_ he had left the group earlier, “Wh—what happened to checking out the area?”

Grif looked down at the cases as if noticing them for the first time, “Well, the tavern _does_ count as part of the area.” He noted in his infuriating pseudo-sage voice, “And I got thirsty.”

Simmons’ mouth hung open as he pointed an accusing finger at the cases, “That’s more than enough for a huge party, Grif, not just you!”

“I got _really_ thirsty.” Grif oh-so-helpfully elaborated before he raised an eyebrow in the redhead’s direction, “Plus, I figured you could use some help unwinding too.”

Simmons glanced up at the mischievous, almost hopeful look in Grif’s brown eyes. He was momentarily surprised by a sudden contradictory wave of unease and guilt that he felt in that same exact instant, recognizing emotions that might not have been his own intermixed within them. _Damn Linking Magic._

Maybe there was something that Grif wanted to tell him too…? Biting his lower lip in nervous anticipation, Simmons found himself nodding his head shakily in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a character I’m not as comfortable writing yet, South certainly shows up a lot in this story! :D It was fun getting to write out a C.T. narrative in this part too since I haven’t done so in a while! :) Apparently the relationships of C.T. and South as well as Grif and Simmons are determined to die of alcohol poisoning before this fic is done! XD Always in moderation, my friends, always in moderation. :D
> 
> …I can so picture Caboose being a firm believer in animal therapy. Whenever he goes on Guild missions with Carolina, Church, or Tex in particular in this AU, he makes it a point to make sure they either hold or pet Freckles for a few minutes every day. :)
> 
> Apparently, I am getting sick. Fun times, that. 0_0; Hopefully it won’t get in the way of me writing or posting too much since I am eager to update when I can to get all of my stories moving! After all, we’re only two chapters away from the finale for Volume I, folks! Can you believe it? XD
> 
> Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read this chapter! :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Wyoming remained panting on the ground, looking up at the stars. They were in a circular clearing, the night sky framed overhead by the overreaching tree branches that made up their surroundings. Evidently, trying to slow or stop Florida from moving at his usual top speeds was just as ineffective as Wyoming quickening his own steps earlier to keep up with his former comrade had proven to be.

Granted, the brown-haired man had been attempting to deal with someone whose particular specialty was throwing any attack directed his way back towards his opponent with a nasty sort of vengeance. So, perhaps he shouldn’t have expected a different outcome in the end.

That particular epiphany didn’t stop Wyoming from glaring pointedly at nothing in particular as he heard Florida ripping his axe from a tree close by, “You did not go easy on me there, chap.” He finally muttered out loud.

The accusation apparently amused the other man more than anything else as Florida smiled slightly when he loomed into view above Wyoming a second later, “Oh, come now, Reggie. When have I ever done that before?” The blue-armored Freelancer turned his head to the side to pointedly look at a spot over his shoulder, “Gamma, have I _ever_ taken it easy on our friend Reggie here when we spar?”

Judging from the sound of rustling foliage, Gamma had evidently moved from the position that he had taken leaning against a tree while he had watched the fight unfold before answering, “Not as far as I can recall.”

“There.” A triumphantly smug note appeared in Florida’s voice as he returned his attention back to Wyoming, “You see? Even your own partner says as much.”

“Bullocks to the both of you.” The white-armored mercenary lifted his head up just enough to glare over towards Gamma, “I could have benefited from some assistance in that skirmish, Gary.”

The last of his Time Copies, a bloodied hacked up mess on the ground, vanished from sight as Gamma shrugged his shoulders in what was an infuriatingly dismissive manner, “I know better than to get involved in matters between the two of you, Reggie.”

“Hmm.” Florida nodded his head approvingly at the remark, “Smart lad.”

He reached a hand down in front of Wyoming just as the other was sitting up. The brown-haired mercenary glared briefly at the proffered appendage before clasping it with his own hand. The small, reassuring squeeze that Florida applied as he helped to heft him up once more was a gesture he instinctively responded to with a slight squeeze back of his own fingers.

Wyoming glared slightly at the offending digits of his hand, associating it with a troublesome bout of muscle memory and nothing more. He chose to ignore the slight contented feeling that came with the action. He certainly wasn’t foolish enough to feel a slight tinge of disappointment when Florida let go.

Instead, Wyoming grunted in response to the earlier dialogue, “You’re bloody traitors, the both of you.”

Florida raised an eyebrow at that rather skeptically, “Should you _really_ be calling anyone that, Reggie?”

“Point taken.” Wyoming’s mustache twitched slightly in the uncomfortable minute of silence that followed, “But can you _still_ really blame us for getting out when we did, considering how things so spectacularly hit the fan in the end?”

Florida shook his head, “No, I really can’t.” He admitted softly before casting a meaningful look Wyoming’s way, “Though it would have been nice as rain to have been asked to come along too.”

Ah, and _there_ was the heart of the matter. That was why things were so terribly tense and awkward between them now.

Wyoming sighed. They both knew that he had chosen to leave with Gamma like he had because Florida had been excessively loyal to Freelancer at the time. As much as Wyoming valued the other man’s company, more than he cared to admit even, he had become far too attached to his Fragment partner to risk his getting caught up in the project’s death throes.

“I’d say I was sorry for that, Butch, but I can’t help but wonder if you would have even said yes at the time.” He finally settled on saying in response when it became obvious he was expected to reply.

“Who can say?” Florida said, his expression remaining a pleasantly neutral one as he shrugged.

The brown-haired man’s cryptic reply resulted in Wyoming making a rather big show of rolling his eyes, “Cryptic as ever, I see.” He noted with mild amusement since Florida’s answer didn’t really matter anymore in hindsight, only to raise an eyebrow a second later, “Now, getting back to the reason behind our rather hectic skirmish…”

Florida smirked, “You mean besides being just a friendly way of saying hello?” He mused, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Your way of greeting old friends has always certainly been memorable.” Wyoming muttered under his breath.

“I was curious to see if your days as a mercenary had dulled your skills any.” The man in blue admitted, his expression turning rather serious and thoughtful a moment later.

The abrupt change in demeanor caught Wyoming off-guard, as did when Florida grabbed his shoulder rather tightly. “There is something that I would greatly appreciate having you and Gamma’s help with, Reggie.” He told him softly, an urgent tone in his voice that was downright unsettling given his usually calm and unflappable way of talking, “Though I am afraid to say that it would most definitely make things between you and your current employer rather tense.”

Wyoming considered what his former Freelancer comrade was saying for a moment. It was unlike Florida to seek out someone’s assistance on a mission, especially considering just how frighteningly capable and prepared he always was. Obviously, whatever this matter was, it was definitely something quite impressive. He also knew that Florida wouldn’t have even approached him with the offer at all if there wasn’t going to be some kind of huge payoff in the end. Florida knew him far too well at this point, after all.

“Anything more specific on what this particular task might entail?” Wyoming asked at length, curiosity momentarily getting the best of him.

“I can’t really go into details until I know where you stand on possibly having to directly work with the Guild and other Outer Region organizations.” The blue-wearing man informed him, “Because there are about to be quite a few _very_ major upheavals in the Unsc.”

Gamma stepped closer to the two men at that point in the conversation, and Wyoming cast a questioning glance his way. His white-eyed partner gave him a slight, practically imperceptible nod.

“Well,” Wyoming finally spoke up, looking at Florida’s face as he waited expectantly for a reply, “We’re certainly willing to listen to what you have to say, at least.”

Florida smiled graciously in response. The old human saying _“There’s a sucker born every minute”_ suddenly came to mind, but Wyoming wasn’t sure if it applied more to him or Florida in this particular moment.

*****

The inn room remained stuffily quiet while both John Elizabeth Andersmith and Katie Jensen awkwardly sat side-by-side near the window. For what had to have been close to the hundredth time since they had settled down to have a proper and long overdue chat, Jensen shifted in her seat, shoulders hunched as if to block out what would more than likely be a horribly painful conversation.

For what was there to say, really? She had been beyond surprised that Andersmith had bothered looking for her at all, let alone that the dark-haired human had taken it upon himself to also get involved in a rescue mission for her sake given what she had done before.

The brunette curled in around herself even more, that oh-so-familiar and constant feeling of guilt clawing its way to the forefront of her being. The tan-skinned girl did not feel that she was deserving of such kindness from the older Magic User, especially considering…

“I’m glad that you’re all right.” Andersmith’s voice broke through the heavy silence, warm and genuine in a way that Jensen truly did not feel she had earned.

“Well,” She replied, swallowing thickly, “You know, it’s really had in general to get me injured.”

Unfortunately, what had been meant to be reassurance on her end ultimately caused her to remember what she had been on the run to try and forget. Visions of twisted metal and choking smoke, of torn clothes but no scratches on her soot-covered skin while there was still blood and mangled limbs all around her in the fiery wreckage…

Jensen shook her head to try and shake the flashback off. Considering what Andersmith had gone through for her sake, she figured that he deserved more of an explanation at any rate. “I’m…I’m really sorry for leaving like I did.” She mumbled quickly, screwing her brown eyes shut tightly as she did so.

Her apology was only met with more silence. Jensen cautiously opened her eyes a second later to see if she could gauge her guardian’s reaction.

Andersmith had seemed to be waiting for direct eye contact, because he shook his dark head of hair the second that she regarded him, “Katie, there’s really no need for you to apologize.”

“O—of course there is!” Jensen jumped to her feet at the vehemence of her own outburst, “I…I made you worry, didn’t I? Even before the whole kidnapping thing! Running away like I did wasn’t right!”

The sudden burst of energy that had overtaken her body just then suddenly drained away just as quickly, and the younger human sagged back down onto the seat next to Andersmith. “I just…” She began to mutter as she gripped her knees tightly, her whole body shaking as tears started to pinprick her eyes, “When I found out what happened, I—” she cut off her explanation with a sob, the memory flashes becoming too insistent to ignore.

How could Andersmith even _stand_ to look at her, let alone agree to be her guardian? Wasn’t she just a constant reminder to him of all that he had lost, even if their families had been close before?

Andersmith wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled Jensen into a protective hug, the kind that he had always used with his daughter whenever she had needed comfort. It was the type of hug that he had always pulled Jensen into when she’d had nightmares that had left her crying and screaming in the middle of the night, the kind of visions that she had never been able to remember fully until a few, painful months ago.

“The only thing you ever did was survive a horrific tragedy, Katie.” Andersmith told her softly, “You did nothing wrong.”

She knew he was right, but that didn’t change the fact that everyone else had died during the Plague Beast attack while she had been completely unharmed. If only her parents or someone from Andersmith’s family had her power instead…

“H—how can you be so understanding?” Jensen finally got out between sniffles, “I couldn’t even protect anyone!”

“You were rather young to be trying out heroics, don’t you think?” Andersmith noted, a sad look crossing over his features, “Besides, I hadn’t been there to try either.” At that gentle reminder as to his absence that day due to a shopping trip, he added, “No one even had any idea at the time that you _were_ a Magic User. It’s more of a miracle that anyone managed to survive at all.”

Jensen frowned, not quite buying it. But, Andersmith apparently wasn’t done with his speech yet: “No matter what you might think, Katie, I’m glad that you lived. That alone gave me a reason to keep moving forward too.”

Jensen’s face heated up at his admission, and she turned her head slightly to bury it in the crook of his arm, “Okay, and _now_ I feel even worse that I ran off like I did than before.” She mumbled into the tan and blue fabric of his clothes.

“Consider it just another sign you’re growing up.” The dark-haired man assured her in a slightly teasing, altogether warm tone.

Jensen shot him a grateful, teary-eyed smile before disengaging from his one-armed embrace to wrap both of her arms around him in a proper hug. It only took a second for Andersmith to respond in kind.

“Whoa! Um, sorry for interrupting!” A cheerful voice suddenly broke into the inn room as the door swung open.

The adoptive family pulled apart at the interruption, Jensen dabbing at her eyes slightly as she did so while a fond smile grew on her face as she saw Andersmith being even more obvious at doing much the same. He always had been quite a big softie at heart, and she was grateful to see that hadn’t changed.

From his spot in the room now, the Guild trainee named Charles Palomo fidgeted awkwardly, having just realized that he had just stepped into something he shouldn’t have but was currently stuck there.

“I…er…wanted to show Jensen a cool trick!” Palomo said as he looked to the floor, his dark cheeks becoming even darker with the blush blooming readily across his face, “Y—you know, if you have the time and want to hang out with me. Ah!” He nervously fidgeted even more, “And the, um, others too.”

Jensen let out a small laugh to help put the poor, babbling guy at ease, “Sure, I’ll be right there.”

Palomo’s head jerked up at her response so quickly that she was afraid he might get whiplash, his blush deepening even more before his stunned expression turned into a full-on beamingly gleeful one that lit up his entire face, “Awesome! I’ll see you then!”

The human practically scampered from the room, leaving the door wide open in his wake as Andersmith regarded Jensen with a surprisingly mischievous, knowing glint in his blue eyes, “I’m fairly certain someone might have a bit of a crush on you.” He told her, smiling slightly.

Jensen’s own smile turned into a thoughtful frown as she glanced over at the open doorway that Palomo had gone through before a sudden surge of heat seemed to explode across her freckled features, “What…? That’s silly!” She told her adopted parent emphatically, “We’ve…we’ve only just met.”

The fond look that crossed over Andersmith’s face then was a downright peaceful one, “I don’t recall that having ever stopped someone before.” He stated, looking rather nostalgic, “Why, I fell head over heels for my wife in just under two minutes.”

Jensen shot up on her feet again, heart hammering loudly in her chest for some unfathomable reason along with her now definitely burning face. She was _not_ going to be having this discussion with Andersmith right now, “A—anyway! I should go see what’s up!” She stated in what was probably far too loud a voice than was truly necessary.

Michael J. Caboose raced into the room just then, holding onto his talking gun, Freckles. The blond-haired Dwarf waved at her excitedly as he made his way over to Andersmith, “Smith!” He called out happily, “You need to meet my sister! I think the two of you would be very good friends!”

Jensen grinned, glad that, if nothing else, Andersmith seemed to have made a few new friends while trying to look for her.

Andersmith nodded his head in response to Caboose, smiling as he got to his feet as well, “I would certainly like to, sir.” He told the blue-wearing Guild member earnestly, “I still need to thank her for looking after Katie.”

*****

Four Seven Niner had waited until both her little brother and Washington had left the inn room for who-knew-what crazy shenanigans before venturing out into the hallway herself.

The door directly across from the room she had been in was closed, and she could faintly hear the voices of York and Carolina drifting outwards from behind it. As much as the Dwarf might want to shoot the breeze with her old Freelancer associates, she would rather wait and not interrupt what could very well be a much needed lovers’ reunion.

It also sounded like the younger kiddos were still in the dining area, and she wasn’t hungry or thirsty enough to go there yet herself. Which just left the top floor of the inn to explore if she wanted to sate her natural curiosity. Shrugging her shoulders because, _hey, why not?_ Niner headed up the stairs.

Doctor Grey and Doc were going through a list of medical supplies in the very first room that she came across. York’s partner, Delta, who Four Seven Niner had always dubbed _“the green guy”_ due to his sharp eye color and clothing color preference, was talking in a quiet voice to both of them. Most likely he was providing intel on how to easily replenish supplies in their current surroundings.

The pink-wearing Donut had dragged himself up the stairs earlier upon their arrival, so she suspected that he was lying down in the next room over to try to restore his energy. Doc glancing every so often in that direction with a lingering frown on his face only further confirmed her suspicions. She wouldn’t go to that door since that was the case. She knew better than to deny the poor guy his beauty sleep after Donut had quite literally dragged all of their asses out of the fire.

Glancing around some more, she noticed that the two rooms across the hallway from the ones she had first spied on this floor had both doors open and were currently empty.

…Which just left the final room at the end of the hallway, along with the bench that stood facing it. A familiar lone figure sat there, her still posture helping her to appear for all the world like the statue that she so closely resembled. The female pilot’s feet already headed in that direction before she even really thought about it.

“What’s up?” Niner greeted casually as she sat down beside Filss before the woman could actually answer. In the inn room, Filss’ little sister, Sheila, was in the middle of what appeared to be a very animated conversation with Lopez and Sarge. Four Seven Niner raised a dark eyebrow at the scene, “How come you aren’t taking the opportunity to mingle with your sister?” She asked curiously.

After all, considering how long the two siblings had been separated, the Dwarf assumed they had a whole lot of catching up to do.

Filss took in a deep breath and let it out, fixing her clear gaze onto the ground before addressing the airship pilot’s question, “I’m…not quite sure what to say.” She finally admitted, her voice practically a whisper, “Sheila has very much been enjoying a free life here in the Outer Regions while I…” she trailed off, frowning slightly as she shook her head, “It just feels as if we are worlds apart now.”

“I get that.” Four Seven Niner muttered, causing Filss to turn to her questioningly so that the dwarven woman was quick to elaborate, “After we left the orphanage where we grew up, Mikey and I were separated for a long time too.”

The woman next to her raised an eyebrow that appeared to have been meticulously sculpted from diamond. Four Seven Niner smiled nostalgically as she continued, “By the time we found each other again, I was an airship pilot who was even poached by the Unsc. He had become a full-fledged Guild member.” There was a note of pride in that last part of her sentence in particular as she clasped her hands together and leaned forward in her seat with a rather faraway look settling into her eyes, “Our worlds were vastly different by that point, as you can probably imagine. But, in a way, sitting down and talking about our experiences helped bring us even closer together than we had been growing up.”

“…I see.” There was a soft, hesitant quality to Filss’ voice then, as if she was mulling over how what Niner had said could be applied to her situation with Sheila.

The pilot fixed her with an even stare, “So you understand what it is I’m trying to say even though I can be pretty lousy with words?”

Filss blinked, shaking her head emphatically as she did so, “That is definitely not the case, I can assure you.” She stated before her expression turned hopeful as she directed her gaze back towards Sheila, “And I think…no, I _believe_ I understand what you’re saying.”

Well, Four Seven Niner thought while smirking to herself, she supposed that would have to do. She gently reached over and gave Filss’ shoulder a soft push that didn’t move the diamond woman in the slightest, marveling in the back of her mind at how someone could be _that_ cold and warm all at the exact same time. It was as if the stone that comprised Filss’ body had been warmed for hours in the summer sun even though it was well into nighttime.

“Now might be a good time to get started on that, then.” Niner informed Filss, gesturing towards the room across from them.

Filss paused just long enough to regard Four Seven Niner carefully, a shy sort of smile gracing her lips that the pilot couldn’t help but grin back at and offer an encouraging thumbs-up in response to. Then, she got to her feet, “Will you still be close by?”

The inquiry caught Four Seven Niner off-guard and she blinked, surprised by the rush of blood to her face before she covered it all up with another reassuring smile and a sharp nod, “Sure, I wouldn’t mind sticking around to compare notes. If you want me to that is.” She told her.

“Thank you.” Another devastatingly bright smile, and Filss entered the room.

Four Seven Niner groaned and slid back against the bench. Seriously, what was with her and becoming attracted to women who were probably completely unavailable due to things being massively complicated? The Dwarf peered at the scene playing out before her through splayed fingers across her eyes, just in case she had perhaps given Filss some bad advice.

What she witnessed was Sarge making himself scarce the second that Filss approached, no doubt excusing himself to see what the fox-lady Grey was up to. Lopez followed suit a brief moment later, staying only to gently squeeze Sheila’s arm and offer an encouraging nod to her before he left as well. The two decidedly statuesque sisters began conversing together in hushed voices following that, and were hugging one another mere minutes later.

Four Seven Niner smiled slightly at the scene before she kicked out with her boot to close the door slightly and give them some privacy, glad that her familial advice hadn’t been too far off the mark for the two of them.

“Sis!” She was cut off from her thoughts by Caboose’s loud voice as he clamored up the stairs excitedly, “I have another new friend I want you to meet!”

“Ma’am.” The dark-haired male behind her brother actually saluted her, and she raised an eyebrow in amusement at the gesture.

“Andersmith, right?” Niner stood up and outstretched her hand towards him, grinning, “Any friend of Mikey and Jensen’s is someone I’ve got to meet.”

*****

Lavernius Tucker was outside by the village outskirts, finally getting that breath of fresh air he had been so desperately craving before. When he left the inn, he had also seen Tex and Church slip out through a side exit, the two hand-in-hand as they made their way to the forest. Tucker didn’t care to know what they were up to, so long as Church didn’t complain too loudly about branches and pine needles being imprinted on his bare ass later on. _Bow-chicka-bow-wow!_

He had run into South and C.T. exiting the local tavern together as well. Besides leaning rather closely against one another as they started to make their way back to the inn, neither woman seemed too drunk despite the amount of time they had spent in there. Scary ass Freelancers!

South had even smirked over at the dark-skinned man and said, _“S’up, Wash’s boy toy?”_ which resulted in Tucker having evidently amused her to no end when he replied with an upraised middle finger before quickening his steps away because his face was hot out of annoyance. It _wasn’t_ because he was blushing or any dumb shit like that, okay?

So, here he was standing in the entryway to town, contemplating again on just which of his badass heroic exploits he should let Junior in on first when he returned to the Guild.

“I’m shocked you aren’t trying to get the others to celebrate or something.”

The teal-wearing man started at Washington’s unexpected but familiar voice, having thought that the Seas was still back at the inn, forced to pet Freckles by a rather insistent Caboose.

Tucker collected himself rather well, all things considered, turning around to see Washington standing behind him, a thoughtful regard to the older man’s features once his amusement over Tucker’s surprise jump faded from view.

“I mean,” Washington said, elaborating before the dark-skinned Beast Folk could say anything, “I just assumed that you were the sort of person who likes to party whenever there might be an opportunity for it.”

Tucker smirked in response to that oh-so-apt description, “You aren’t technically in the wrong there, dude.” He informed the former Freelancer before he shook his head and frowned out at nothing in particular, “I’m just not quite sure I feel like celebrating anything yet.”

Washington frowned himself and stepped forward until they were standing side-by-side, “Is it because Carolina got injured?” He prompted quietly, gray eyes fixated on the darkness surrounding them as well.

“I think that’s a part of it.” Tucker admitted, because it really would be an asshole move to celebrate while someone was still holed up in bed, but that wasn’t the entire reason. He frowned even more, pointedly looking away from Washington as he did so, “But I keep having this feeling like we’ve only just stumbled onto something really fucking huge and that it’s going to totally bite us all in the ass later.”

After a few moments of stark silence, the Beast Folk cautiously glanced over at Washington. He was completely expecting the blond to make fun of his fears since that was something his other asshole friends would do. The contemplative look that he found on the Seas’ face instead sent more than a few alarm bells off in his head. He should have figured. This fucking former Freelancer was paranoid as shit.

“You might not be wrong about that.” Washington muttered under his breath.

The Beast Folk’s black furred tail swished back and forth frantically behind him, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Washington shook his head at the incredulity in Tucker’s tone, his own speech sincere, “You have surprisingly good instincts, Tucker.” He stated rather quietly, “You should trust them more.”

Tucker blinked, honestly unsure of how to respond or why he felt a small trill of pleasure at the unexpected compliment. Still, he shook his head all the same though and sighed, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll definitely take the praise because I am just that awesome,” he ignored Washington’s groan of exasperation, “But I am sort of hoping that I’m off on this one.” He admitted, “If only because that will make things about a million times more fucked up than they need to be.”

Washington smirked, “It’s always better to be prepared, Tucker.”

Tucker let out another tired sigh. Washington and his fucking preparedness. There was a comfortable silence between the two following that thread of conversation, with the looming darkness of the forest in front of them while the faint light and sleepy sounds of the village were at their backs.

Tucker regarded Washington carefully, recalling what he had been up to before at the inn, “Why aren’t you chumming it up with your Freelancer buddies?”

Washington frowned, “It’s comp—”

“Dude, if you say _“complicated”_ then I am going to fucking kick you.” Tucker smirked at the sudden pout that crossed over Washington’s features before he continued, “At least we got your pilot friend and the others back.”

“That’s true.” Washington’s smile was back following the slight subject change, “She was actually the only person from my past I had kept in contact with until this whole thing started.”

Tucker silently watched him for another moment, finally deciding that he probably shouldn’t remark on the rather remorseful look in the other man’s gray eyes just then, “Do you want to change that?” He asked quietly instead.

Washington looked up at Tucker in open surprise, apparently not catching his meaning. Tucker took in a deep breath. Man, Freelancers were so fucking slow on the uptake!

“I mean, do you want to talk to the rest of your old team now?” Tucker elaborated since clearly the older man needed it spelled out for him.

Washington stared out into the forest, “I…I’m not sure.” He admitted softly.

Whatever had transpired when Project Freelancer fell, it was obvious that it had taken quite a heavy toll on the Seas. Tucker didn’t really get it, but he’d seen a lot of people left tortured in one way or another in Project Freelancer’s wake.

Tucker smiled encouragingly, reaching out to give Washington a hefty pat on the shoulder for good measure, “Well, if you ever do, I’ll definitely be there to help out!”

Washington regarded the Guild member with a look of utter shock and disbelief plastered all over his gray and yellow-tinged face, as if he was hallucinating this whole conversation.

“Dude, I’m being totally serious.” Tucker informed him, “You’ve proven yourself to be an okay guy in my book, which means we’re friends now. You’re fucking stuck with me from here on out. Just ask Church and Tex if you need proof.”

There was a brief moment of unresponsiveness from Washington during which Tucker started to inwardly panic, thinking that maybe he’d overstepped his bounds. But, then, an awkward but completely genuine smile suffused the Seas’ features.

“Thanks, Tucker.” Washington told him, sounding rather touched.

Tucker smiled right back in response, both men suddenly awkward as they turned away from one another then to cover up their matching blushes.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons was definitely not the sort to go around drinking a lot, but Grif was admittedly right about his nerves being shot. So, it was no real surprise that it hadn’t taken as much convincing as it usually would have for the Orc to get Simmons to follow him out to the backyard of the inn, where they sat down on the grass together and promptly started gulping down the alcohol that Grif had procured earlier.

Dexter Grif let out a snort of laughter at the sight of Simmons chugging half a bottle of ale and promptly making an offending face at the liquid remains in the container, “We aren’t in a contest here, Simmons,” he told him rather fondly, “Just take your time and enjoy the moment.”

Which was pretty fitting advice, coming from Grif. But still, Simmons felt that funny wave of _guilt_ again all the same, an emotion he recognized as not his own given the Linking Magic. The human frowned as he chose to focus on the tan-skinned man’s words instead.

“I have to chug it down. It tastes icky.”

“Icky.” Grif repeated, smirking at the redhead’s word choice as he downed his third bottle all in one go, “You’re definitely not a drinker.”

Desperate to prove the orange-wearing man wrong even though he was totally right, Simmons gulped down the rest of his bottle with a grimace. Grif patted his back when he coughed afterwards, handing the Magic User another bottle when he gestured for it.

Simmons stared down at the new bottle in his hands, already feeling a bit light-headed now that the burning in his throat had died down. “…Carolina’s going to be okay.” He murmured quietly, more to himself than to his drinking partner.

Grif raised an eyebrow at the sudden topic change, “That’s good news.”

Simmons nodded his head in earnest agreement, taking a swig of his drink right alongside Grif. It didn’t burn quite so badly going down this time around. “I…I missed Church and Carolina a lot.” He admitted shakily as he brought the ale back down, “They were the only family who ever really gave a flying fuck about me.”

Grif paused in his own drinking to cast a curious look the redhead’s way, “What about your parents?”

The maroon-wearing man shook his head emphatically, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, “My mother…” he frowned in foggy recollection, “She avoided me after my ears…” Simmons trailed off, shaking violently for a second at the onslaught of memories that brought on. His fingers trembled and he had to fight the urge to clasp them over the scarred tissue once more…

He was thrown completely off-guard by Grif suddenly reaching over to gently stroke his ear with his fingertips. Simmons froze beneath the sudden touch, unsure of what to make of how careful it was, of how _warm_ Grif’s hand was against his normally always cold earlobes.

“Am I ever going to get the story behind this?” Grif’s voice was soft, uncharacteristically so, and Simmons felt his heart hammering loudly in his chest at the still happening physical contact.

“I—I’m not sure it’s a good story to tell.” Simmons muttered, his face almost insufferably hot at this point, which he blamed on the alcohol although he knew it was only a partial truth.

If he shared his past, then Grif would certainly think even less of him and he definitely didn’t want that.

“I want to know all about you, though.” Grif murmured, breath right against his cheek and, holy fuck, when had the Orc gotten _that_ close?

Simmons panicked at the unexpected nearness. He was sure that Sarge would have been proud of his coloring now as he tried desperately to think of a safer subject. Grif had asked him about his family, right? He plowed on with that topic, eyes fixated on the ground as he began to ramble.

“You, you know that m—my dad is a huge asshole and I was always…always scared of my uncle…”

Come to think of it, it was at _his_ insistence that Simmons had ended up being registered so early on at the Magic Division. All of the tests and experiments that happened afterwards, almost immediately following the death of…

“My aunt, Church and Carolina’s mom? She...she was actually pretty nice.” Simmons recalled to the best of his ability at the moment given his rather muddy thoughts, “She’d take me everywhere with them whenever they travelled, wh—when she could…”

But she had died fighting a particularly nasty group of Plague Beasts while out on what was supposed to be some kind of routine operation in the Outer Regions. It was after that when his uncle had gotten even scarier, his cousins sadder and more driven, his own mother all the more distant…

Simmons blinked. Normally, that train of thought would have him become a panicked jumble of nerves on the ground, but he felt oddly calm at the moment. Almost like the calm didn’t belong to him. Grif was still stroking the side of his head, the motion oddly soothing now as it continued.

The redhead took in a shaky breath, his head still swimming. “I think…” he blinked, fighting back a combination of a hiccup and a yawn as he did so, “I think I’m drunk, Grif.”

He felt the tan-skinned man nod his head more than he saw it, “That was kind of the point, kiss-ass.”

Good to know Grif could still make fun of him even in a very vulnerable moment. Simmons wasn’t sure how to deal with his rambling thoughts or unexpected emotions, and Grif shifted slightly in his spot on the ground so that the human was more or less leaning against him.

“I can understand about asshole relatives.” Grif murmured into Simmons’ hair, “When my mom and stepfather died, no one in the world cared about me but Kai.”

Simmons wanted to tell him that wasn’t true anymore, wanted to make sure that the heavyset man _knew_ that now, but in his foggy state of mind all he could mutter out was, “I’m glad…she’s safe, Grif.”

The Orc continued to run his fingers through his hair, and Simmons was struck by how this was the calmest he had felt in days before Grif spoke again: “I know. We all are, and it’s going to stay that way.”

Would it? Simmons really, desperately wanted that to be the case, but what he had seen in that Remnant…

There was another odd, foreign sensation niggling at him and Simmons awkwardly tried drowning it out with the rest of his ale. He made a face, and he felt the chuckle that erupted from the Orc’s chest, “You’re definitely a fucking lightweight, nerd.” Grif said in mock patience.

“I’m not…!” Simmons’ exclamation was cut off by a yawn, and the events of the past several hours suddenly caught up with him all at once.

The empty bottle fell with a quiet thud to the ground from his limp fingers and, before Simmons even realized what he was doing, he had burrowed his face even closer to the fabric around Grif’s shoulder and chest.

“M—maybe wasn’t such a good idea…” Simmons slurred out, “Really, really tired…”

Grif shifted his position again so that Simmons was leaning against him more comfortably.

“You should probably just go to sleep then, Simmons.” There was that same tone of unexpected fondness in Grif’s voice as he spoke then, but Simmons didn’t have the opportunity to dwell on it or that strange, lingering feeling as he drifted off to a _(thankfully)_ dreamless sleep while Grif’s fingers were still running gently through his red hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Andersmith and Jensen convo from this chapter was actually one of the very first plot ideas I had when I was thinking of turning _Remnants_ into a multi-chaptered story. Finally being able to write it out was a rather neat experience, and I hope it flowed well in the overall narrative of this chapter!
> 
> Lol, awkward heart-to-hearts and horribly written scenes of romance and drunkenness were brought to you by extreme bouts of sickness throughout my house! With me getting sick and family members also catching the bug, it has been a barrel of fun times here. XD I hope that the chapter managed to be readable given that!
> 
> This chapter and the one following it are both a bit longer than the norm for me, mainly because there are some story scenes and moments I really wanted to get to in this first story arc for _Remnants_. Basically, I’m trying to cram them into the ending. XD Volume I’s final chapter is coming up next! In it, we’ll get to see just how good Tucker’s instincts are as things certainly start to hit the fan to ensure that Volume II will begin with some (hopefully) interesting new plot points in play. :)
> 
> Lol, I can’t decide if Volume I’s ending will be something people will like or not, but I hope it will set the stage for Volume II nicely and that readers will want to stick around to see what will happen next when it gets underway. XD Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read this chapter! :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Agent North Dakota let out a breath and opened his eyes as soon as the momentary burst of light that always accompanied Teleportation Orb use faded from against his closed eyelids. The rather nondescript village that the blond found himself standing in could have easily been any other remote village in the Outer Regions, haloed as it was by the early morning light filtering in through the towering forest rising up above.

Next to the violet-armored man, Theta did a small sidestep bounce from one foot to the next, the pout that had been on his face since they had been preparing for their departure from Armonia still present. “I still don’t get why Junior couldn’t come with us.” The boy muttered rather glumly, “His dad is here too, isn’t he? Doesn’t he want to see his son?”

“Of course Tucker does, kiddo.” North informed his young partner just as patiently as he had the last time they had this conversation, “But Tucker also wouldn’t want Junior wandering into what could very well be a potentially volatile situation.”

A sentiment that North could easily understand himself. Ever since he had become something akin to a guardian for young Theta, he was often reluctant to bring the young lad along on particularly dangerous missions despite how much Theta had proven himself capable, even when his support abilities often proved rather vital for certain jobs. That was one of the main reasons why North so often volunteered the two of them to be Doyle’s bodyguards, as doing so was a significantly lower risk assignment. It was more of a formality, really, to show goodwill from the Guild to the Unsc since most would avoid outright confrontation with that powerful an entity, a formality that helped to keep North and Theta in Armonia.

Despite Junior and Theta’s combined attempts at pleading for him to do otherwise, North wasn’t about to take another child, an even younger one at that, out on the field against his parent’s wishes.

Theta chose to pout more instead of responding directly to North’s comment, causing the platinum blond to sigh somewhat. He was truly grateful that Theta had developed such a strong friendship with another youth so close to his own age following their break from Freelancer, but the display of the usually timid Fragment’s surprising stubborn streak was often a bit draining.

A loud crash suddenly came from inside the structure that North quickly deduced was the village’s inn, followed by a myriad of muffled but still altogether loud exclamations. He looked down at the curious expression that suddenly took over Theta’s face, raising his own eyebrow slightly in mild amusement.

“Well, something tells me that we’re going to have quite a task on our hands in getting this group back to Armonia.” North told his partner with a small, patient smile.

“You always were one to state the fucking obvious, North.”

It wasn’t the Fragment that had supplied that sneer of a response, and both North and Theta stiffened at the all-too familiar voice. North counted to ten in his head before he turned behind him to see his twin sister standing haughtily, arms crossed over her chest.

Even more surprising, standing next to her was C.T. of all people. North momentarily cursed York for his friend’s desire to get through Guild reports quickly because a bit of a head’s up regarding South’s presence would have been nice. It would have been helpful to maybe even have had an afterthought about just who exactly would be throwing the Teleportation Orb.

Then again, maybe York had thought that leaving out said details would postpone any awkwardness for at least a little while longer, so the tan-armored man had done so in a misguided attempt to help his friend out. Whatever the reason, it didn’t really matter at the moment.

“C.T.,” North inclined his head slightly, trying not to miss a beat in greeting, “South. It’s been a while.”

South smirked at the obvious tension in North’s posture, “Hey, bro.” She titled her head in Theta’s direction, her eyebrow lifting marginally when he took a cautious step back behind the taller male, “Still traveling with little Theta, I see.” The fake cordialness that had been soaking her words up until then faded from her tone completely, “Then again, why wouldn’t you be? Considering how you chose him over your own flesh and blood.”

The venom in her voice matched the sharp anger illuminating her ice blue eyes all too well. Theta let out a scared squeak behind him, his shaking hand suddenly reaching for North’s still steady one. North squeezed the boy’s fingers reassuringly, though his gaze never left South’s.

C.T. quietly watched the exchange, her voice suddenly pushing its way through the thick tension coiling all around them, “I’ll take Theta inside so we can assess what still needs to be done for transport.”

The ploy to give the twins some time together to talk was obvious, but North was glad for it. After all, there were some things that Theta did not need to witness, and he knew that a chat with his sister and all of the inevitable ugliness and anger that would come along with it was long overdue. “Thank you, C.T.,” he told the brunette as she stepped towards them and took Theta’s smaller hand in her own, “It’s good to see you again.”

The genuineness of his comment seemed to catch C.T. off-guard momentarily, and she blinked up at him before smiling slightly, “Likewise.”

The brunette and Theta took about two steps towards the inn before C.T. turned back around to regard South in a considering manner, “Try not to kill your brother, okay?” She asked the other woman with orchid tipped hair, the remark both serious and joking.

South finally allowed her pointed gaze to drop from her brother in order to smirk in C.T.’s direction, “Can’t make any promises.”

A sigh escaped the brown-armored woman’s lips, and Theta cast a worried glance back over at North. He smiled back slightly in response, inclining his head to let the Fragment know that he was fine. Another reassuring squeeze of C.T.’s hand later, and the dark-haired boy followed her inside.

North turned back around to face South, opening his mouth once more as he did so. He wasn’t even sure where to start.

“If you’re going to try and apologize, you can fucking save it.” South, naturally, beat him to the punch.

He looked at her tense posture, at the curling snarl of her lips after she had so vehemently spat that out at him, “You’re still mad.”

“No shit.” She rolled her eyes once again at his stating something fairly obvious, glaring once more a second later, “How could I not be when everyone left me behind, dumbass?”

North flinched slightly at the hidden meaning behind those words. Sure, South was angry that her other so-called teammates had left her in the dust as well, of that he had no doubt. But, that was _especially_ true of the sibling who had convinced her to leave Freelancer along with him, who then left her behind after saying how important it was that they all stick together. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d had anyone else growing up in a Magic Division facility in the Unsc territories.

“Everyone else not wanting to do mercenary work was why that happened, South.” North reminded her flatly instead, “You just couldn’t give it up.”

South scoffed, “Oh, please. You just didn’t want your precious Theta seeing anymore of how ugly and brutal the real world is.” She spat on the ground and promptly stomped her foot over the spot to work it into the soil, “So now you and your buddies have all turned into goodie two-shoes. It makes me want to fucking puke every time I think about it.”

North figured that it wouldn’t do any good to rise to the obvious challenge she was trying to entice him with or to let her rant to her heart’s content, “Just what are you doing here yourself, then?” He asked instead.

Some of the burning anger that South was displaying deflated from her shoulders slightly as she pondered over the unexpected question. At length, she shrugged, “Who the fuck knows?” She glanced over at the inn with an anticipatory gleam in her eyes, “But I have a feeling that things are bound to get mighty interesting real soon, and I want in this time.” South turned a challenging glare his way a moment later, “Do you have a problem with that, North?”

The defiant tone was once again there in her voice, and North decided once more to ignore it. He shook his head, “Not a one.”

“That’s what I thought.” South shot him a predatory smirk before turning and heading back to the inn herself. From the probing way she was turning her head to and fro as she approached the entryway, he had a sneaking suspicion that she was probably seeking out C.T..

North sighed and shook his head before following suit, the violet-armored man wondering just what it was they were all about to get into.

*****

Vanessa Kimball let out a tiny yawn as she moved to sit down on the small cot located in the right back corner of her office. She had moved the cot there when a rather concerned Doctor Grey and Bones had insisted she needed to get more rest, the healers relenting on their insistence that she leave her office to do so on particularly busy days _only_ if she still somehow managed to get in a few more hours of sleep than her normal two.

It had been a compromise that seemed to work out well for all concerned parties, especially once Kimball figured out that Doctor Grey was good at using a supportive espionage ring of her own tasked with caring for her wellbeing. The doctor’s spies consisted of good-natured operatives such as Sheila, Sarge, and Tucker, all making sure that the Guild leader was actually attempting to keep up her end of the rest bargain.

True, at first it had been more of an annoyance than anything else, but ever since she had been unexpectedly thrust into the leadership position for the organization just a few bewildering years ago Kimball had learned to be touched by the surprising gestures of concern that the others in the Guild constantly displayed towards her.

She had just finished up with finalizing the travel arrangements for the group that had gone to rescue the captured Magic Users. A trade caravan that she had some past ties to had agreed to meet up with them in a day’s time to take them on as added protection to a more populated town with an airship port. From there they could get a ride back to Guild Headquarters, thereby hopefully not jostling Carolina’s injury further and running into any other potential risks that came with constantly using Teleportation Orbs for a group that size. There were still a couple of hours before the day was technically set to properly begin, so she figured she should take the opportunity to rest.

“Miss Kimball!”

That was until Donald Doyle suddenly came crashing into her office, out of breath and looking extremely pale.

Kimball was already back on her feet by the time Doyle’s frantic gaze landed on her as his cheeks became even redder at the apparent realization that he could have just walked in on her sleeping. Realizing what he was thinking, she spoke up before any rambling sort-of apology could pass through his lips, “What is it?”

They had last seen each other only hours ago, when North and Theta had left Armonia. A part of her wondered if perhaps he was here to complain of his temporary bodyguard replacements, but she knew even someone as infuriatingly fussy as Doyle would wait until the next business day had officially started to do so at least. Besides, he wouldn’t have flown in here in a state of sheer panic for something like that.

“Yes! I am, er, terribly sorry for barging in so abruptly,” Doyle said, now pointedly looking away from Kimball as if he was afraid that he may have just walked in on her in a state of undress and unsure where to look, “B—but I just received news that could have dire consequences for all of the Outer Regions!”

Kimball stepped purposefully into Doyle’s line of sight then, not having the patience for the human’s sense of propriety in the wake of his announcement, “What do you mean?”

Doyle swallowed thickly, eyes large and wide as he focused on the Seas’ face directly in front of his own, “A division of the Unsc’s army will be coming here to personally investigate the possibility that the missing prince is somehow connected to the kidnapped Magic Users.” He informed her without preamble, “A professional inquiry will be made about whether or not the Guild and other Outer Region organizations have done enough to actively search for him, or to stop Charon from terrorizing their citizenry.”

The dark-skinned Seas stared at him blankly, her brain still trying to process the news. She couldn’t find the right words to say as she thought about the implications the Unsc’s army would have within the Guild.

The Unsc Embassy representative looked downright sheepish standing in her office, pinned under Kimball’s dark-eyed gaze, “I—I tried to convince them that it was not necessary, but evidently they have lost patience with my handling of these matters as well.” Doyle all but wilted as he shakily explained further.

Fuck it. Kimball couldn’t help but swear under her breath in response. Doyle, for all his annoyances, she could handle. She wasn’t so sure about the rest of the Unsc.

*****

The Relic Communicator that was currently gripped tightly in Carolina’s hand nearly broke with the sheer amount of pressure she was placing on it. “And you are absolutely sure?” She asked out loud, her voice dangerously still.

From close by her bedside, York glanced nervously over at the grim-faced Sarge and North while Doctor Grey mumbled something about blood pressure under her breath to the purple-wearing Doc near her.

“Was it a good idea to give her that in the first place?” York asked the other two men quietly, gesturing towards the device that was all but smoking now in the redhead’s iron-clad hold. He was especially concerned given how she was technically still recovering and wasn’t supposed to be as directly involved in Guild matters.

“It was either that or have her be mighty pissed at all of us once she found out we were purposefully keeping her out of the dang loop, son.” Sarge noted just as quietly back in response.

York’s worried frown only deepened, but he had to give a slight nod all the same as he conceded the older man’s point.

_“Quite certain, unfortunately.”_ Doyle’s voice came through loud and clear as he answered the cyan-wearing woman’s query, _“I can’t help but worry about the impact this may very well have on the Outer Regions. Tentative peace talks with the Orcs aside, none of the regions are overly fond of the Unsc and their tendency to often want to be involved in all matters.”_

“They’ve had too many sour experiences with them due to the empire’s expansionist policies already.” North muttered under his breath, “Any more direct interference into Outer Region affairs…”

“Could be altogether disastrous.” Carolina grit out when it became obvious the platinum blond wasn’t going to finish his sentence, a curse breaking through under her breath a second later.

Doc, who had been standing in attendance with Doctor Grey, fidgeted slightly. He was clearly uncomfortable by the tension in the room, especially since the area had been set up to give off a calming atmosphere to help with Carolina’s recovery. “If…if someone finds the prince though, wouldn’t that be the end of things?” He worked up the nerve to ask, pushing his glasses back up the ridge of his nose.

Sarge frowned even more at the question, “The Unsc is a tad more complicated than that, Doc.”

“Besides,” York tapped his chin thoughtfully as he added, “No one even knows where to start looking for the guy.”

“That isn’t _entirely_ true.”

All eyes turned to the room’s doorway then, Doc’s brown eyes in particular lighting up at the sight of who was standing there. “Donut!” The medic exclaimed in relief as he made his way over to the dirty blond’s side, “Are you feeling better now?”

Donut smiled reassuringly in response to Doc’s concern and nodded his head briefly. All things considered, he still looked rather tired and drained, but there was more of that earnest light that everyone tended to associate with him shining in his brown eyes again than what had been there a few hours ago as he turned his gaze from Doc’s flower-adorned head over to Sarge in particular.

Sarge stiffened slightly and shook his head at whatever silent exchange past between them, “Now isn’t exactly a good time, son.” He told the pink-wearing man, much to the growing curiosity of everyone else in the room.

Donut’s smile morphed into an altogether sad one that seemed rather out of place on the younger man’s face, “Thank you, Sarge, but you really don’t have to keep covering for me any longer.” He stated, “It’s time I stopped just teasing around the rim!”

“Um, what?” York asked about a second later into the very much awkward pause that followed Donut’s emphatic declaration just then.

But, the brown-haired man’s query was ignored as Donut squared his shoulders and lifted his head up in a rather proud manner before exclaiming, “You guys really don’t have to look very far for the prince at all, because he happens to be standing right here!”

*****

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Dexter Grif was unable to stop himself from stating that thought out loud as he gaped at Donut in open shock along with everyone else from their traveling party in the kitchen and dining area following the reveal.

Well, everyone save for Sarge, South, and Simmons, who had blearily woken up just a short while ago before the meeting had been called. Thanks to Grif not being drunk yet himself and the effects of the Linking Magic, which was definitely a side-benefit Grif thought the ancient texts should have totally elaborated more on _(come on, history! Way to skip the important details)_ , the freckled redhead wasn’t nearly as tipsy or hungover as he probably would have been otherwise, though he was still leaning a great deal more against Grif’s side than he would probably do in public in any other situation. Not that Grif was complaining, mind you.

The small room in the inn wasn’t exactly the most ideal spot for a group as large as theirs to gather, and they all did their best to ignore Donut’s earlier commentary on just _“how much of a tight squeeze this is turning out to be and, believe me, I’m something of an expert when it comes to cramming things into tight spaces usually!”_ But, it was the best they could do on such short notice following York’s telling everyone that they needed to have an emergency meeting. Even still, Kai and the other younger members of the ragtag group, along with Andersmith, Four Seven Niner, and Filss, had spilled out into the hallway so that there was at least some breathing room.

Tucker snorted in disbelief, “This has got to be a joke, right?” The Beast Folk asked from his spot standing against the wall next to Washington, “Dude, you’re totally pulling our legs.”

“I always knew Biscuit was pricey.” Caboose muttered from where he was standing next to Tex. Both the Dwarf and the black-armored woman had opted to stand by the table that Carolina had been stationed at for the meeting so that she was still off her feet at Doctor Grey’s insistence. Church sat next to his sister while she had Freckles resting on her lap at Caboose’s insistence.

Tex didn’t even miss a beat there, “I think you mean _princely_ , Caboose.” She informed her friend in a surprisingly gentle voice.

“That too.”

Sarge’s arms had been crossed over his chest ever since he had entered the room, a frown suffusing his weathered features as he shook his head at Tucker’s declaration before anymore conversation could be thrown out, “It’s true.” He stated with a measure of finality in his voice that broached no room for argument, “I met Donut on one of my trips to the Unsc. Even helped smuggle him back to the Outer Regions when he asked.”

“...Sabía que esa maleta había hablado.” _{“…I knew that suitcase fucking talked.”}_

Lopez muttered something under his breath while Sheila sitting close by looked rather contemplative over the news, “There had always been rumors about the prince even before I had left the Unsc…”

“Mostly because the royal family had been keeping him out of the public eye for quite some time.” Washington finished for her as the crystalline woman trailed off, his own gray-eyed gaze steady as he stared at Donut, “So why go to all the trouble?”

“Yeah, especially if you were just going to be hiding out as some anonymous Guild member.” Tucker chimed in, shrugging and grinning slightly when Washington regarded him in mild surprise that their trail of thought had been so similar.

“I’ve always been something of an embarrassment to my family,” Donut rolled his eyes in obvious exasperation over his predicament as he continued to explain, “Not only because of my zest for life which they all seem to be sadly sorely lacking, but also because I turned out to be a Magic User.”

Simmons straightened slightly at Grif’s side and he glanced over at the pink-wearing man briefly. Yeah, from what Grif had been able to gather, that tended to apparently happen a lot in the Unsc in particular when someone displayed an usual ability. The Orc’s own experience with a rather volatile power had been rather similar too. No one wanted to hang out with a dude who could potentially blow them up.

“Not to mention, I really had just always wanted to get the chance to see the rest of the world too!” Donut sighed dreamily in recollection before he took everyone by surprise in the next moment with his expression becoming an uncharacteristically serious one, “And, you know, there were all these really nasty rumors that some group of ne’er-do-wells had snuck into the empire and that a coup might be underway. I’ll admit I was pretty curious to figure out just how long a reach-around these guys might have!”

Tex’s eyes narrowed, “You’re talking about Charon.”

Donut nodded, “After Project Freelancer fell, Charon really did seem to take off just about everywhere. Their background influence even worried my folks some, and they tend to really stay on their high horses.”

“Oh, I did not know you had horses too!” Caboose exclaimed, suddenly much more interested in the conversation playing out around him than he had been a moment ago.

“It was as if they were somehow benefiting from research that Freelancer may have left behind.” Delta surmised.

A frown had settled over C.T.’s features, “I can definitely confirm due to my time with them that Charon has somehow gotten their hands on quite a bit of Freelancer tech that hadn’t been properly destroyed or taken with people when they left.” The brunette added carefully, “I think that their kidnapping of the Magic Users had something to do with trying to continue some of the experiments.”

Tex’s expression was even stormier than normal as she grit her teeth, “We should have burned the damn place down.”

“Come to think of it,” Palomo called out from his spot in the hallway, “Didn’t they say something about activating a Remnant?”

Donut and Simmons both glanced at one another then, Grif raising an eyebrow at the exchange and the sudden pang of anxiety and guilt that didn’t belong to him. Damn Linking Magic.

Tucker nodded, “Yeah, actually. I’m pretty sure they fucking did.” He gave a thumbs-up in the young man’s direction, “Great job for once, Palomo!”

“Thank you, sir! My mom always did like to say that even a broken timepiece is correct at least once a day!”

The feline Beast Folk groaned at the cheerful exclamation, putting his head in his hands, “Shut the fuck up, Palomo. You just ruined it.”

Church and Carolina, meanwhile, were looking over at one another as if they had just come to the same, horrific conclusion at that very second. Grif could swear that Carolina was in fact actually _petting_ Freckles now in an subconscious effort on her part to relieve stress. Which, in her case, made her seem all the more terrifying somehow.

_“Replicant.”_ They both whispered at the same time.

Donut and everyone who had past affiliation with Freelancer unexpectedly flinched at the spoken word. The others in the space just looked amongst one another in clear confusion.

“I thought the Director never completed it.” C.T. stated quietly in the aftermath of the collective reaction.

“The asshole managed to get pretty fucking close,” Church’s eyes darkened as he looked over at where Delta and Theta were standing, “And considering how he was able to create the Fragments…”

Delta took over the conversation then, “The process used to create us, emotional replicas of Church, could have easily been reworked to create at least one viable Replicant. Provided that the individual survived the process.”

“Hold the fuck up,” Tucker raised his hand as he watched Washington squeeze the bridge of his nose as if he was dealing with a major headache, “What exactly _is_ a Replicant?”

“Yes, for those of us who might not know.” Caboose chimed in softly, “Like Tucker, obviously.”

“Someone who is capable of repairing damaged Relics and Remnants.” Church quickly elaborated, “Who could even potentially create duplicates of them if given enough time.”

“The Elves had numerous Replicants on hand, which is most likely how Relics and Remnants even came to be in the first place.” Washington was speaking up now, his voice and expression vacant as if he was reciting all of this from a lesson that had been ingrained into him much earlier, “But that particular ability was destroyed when their civilization was killed off.”

“Project Freelancer was supposed to not only figure out ways to further enhance and augment a Magic User’s natural power, but it was also trying to figure out how to birth new Replicants since Remnants are such a valuable but ultimately limited resource.” North carried on after him.

“The problem was always that a person would need a rather decent amount of elvish blood to even make it possible for them to become a Replicant.” Carolina’s expression had turned even more grim as she spoke, “And to further complicate things, they would also need a power that would be similar enough to what a Replicant’s had been in order for the effects of the experiment to properly latch on to them.”

Simmons inhaled sharply, his face even paler than usual as he looked as if he might faint. Grif could feel the panic suddenly coursing through him all over again, “L—like mine.” He heard the freckled human mutter under his breath.

Both Carolina and Church looked down at the table they were sitting at as though it had somehow personally affronted them before they nodded in response to their relative’s dawning realization.

“Those experiments the old man put you through when you were first sent to the Magic Division.” Church muttered under his breath, “We always…we always assumed they didn’t pan out because you were never brought into Freelancer.”

Grif’s blood ran cold as those words sunk in, and it was Simmons’ turn to look over at him in alarm as the Orc stiffened considerably at his side. “Hold on.” He was actually surprised at how calmly detached he sounded despite the turbulent emotions he could feel brewing just beneath the surface, “He experimented on his own nephew?”

Carolina’s frown only deepened as she cast a worried look over at Simmons’ now completely dejected form, “It was all done with Simmons’ father’s blessing too.” She noted softly, an unreadable expression like ice crossing over her features as she added with bitter sharpness to her tone, “And he had no qualms about experimenting on his own children either.”

From where she was leaning against the doorway of the room, Kai let out a sympathetic whistle, “That is _completely_ fucked up.”

Church snorted derisively, “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Grif turned to look over at Simmons, who was no longer even trying to meet his gaze halfway. He was curled in around himself as if he could somehow block everything out, and the tan-skinned Orc wished that he could think of _anything_ that he could say or do to make the lanky human somehow feel better.

The gray and yellow-tinged Seas was carefully looking amongst the cousins himself now, “But it didn’t actually fail, did it?” Washington spoke up into the heavy silence, “The Director just never figured that out.”

“And Freelancer imploded before he ever could.” South bitterly interjected, “So sad.”

“I managed to gather enough intel to figure out about the Replicant experiments before I left the Unsc.” Donut told them, his brows knitting together in a rather thoughtful manner, “But I had always assumed it had been a failure too until I saw what Simmons did in the ruins earlier.”

All eyes turned to Simmons then, who hunched in even tighter around himself.

Sarge frowned, “What exactly _did_ happen back there?”

Simmons flinched slightly as if he had been physically struck by the question but, before either Donut or himself could answer the man in red’s query, Grif beat them to the punch: “You healed a Remnant.”

Simmons’ green eyes widened considerably, but he managed to nod his head shakily. Grif closed his eyes, piecing together what had happened back then in Rat’s Nest to have caused that weird-ass, nightmare of a vision.

Grif smiled ruefully, figuring that it was time enough to lay all the cards out on the table. “That asshole Price that we ran into back in Rat’s Nest?” He waited until he had everyone’s attention again before he continued, “He’s currently trying to get all Charon operatives in the Outer Regions to be on the lookout for us.” Grif shrugged his shoulders dismissively at the news, “I’m guessing that not only does he want their captives back, but that he’ll probably want to bring both them and Simmons back to wherever it is that Charon has the most control in the Unsc too. That way there will be no more outside interferences.”

Simmons visibly blanched, his brain evidently broken with trying to figure out just how to react to the Orc’s announcement. There was an understandable uproar in the hallway too. Grif caught Simmons’ eyes and held him there with a determined look in his own as he raised his voice enough for his sister and the others to hear too, “No fucking way that’s going to happen.”

“Fuck yeah, you’re right!” Kai exclaimed, proceeding to try to get everyone around her to follow through with a whooping cheer as well.

“For once, I agree with Grif on something.” Sarge stated in what was no doubt meant to be reassuring for Simmons and everyone else, though he looked as if he was suffering from a rather large internal conflict over the admission.

The Church siblings also nodded their heads, Carolina emphatically stating, “Of course that isn’t going to happen.”

But even as the agreements to that sentiment began resounding, Donut was frowning to himself, a thoughtful hum escaping his mouth, “Gee, guys. I’m not really sure about that.”

Before any outbursts could get in his way, the pink-wearing Magic User continued, “Think about it! The Unsc is willing to risk outright war to bring me back, and now Charon wants Simmons. That Price guy’s involvement also proves that there is some extreme spillover between the two groups and not in the fun, messy kind of way.” His eyes narrowed, “I doubt they’ll stop until they at least get some results, and who knows what they’re willing to keep doing until that happens? I think it’s possible we could at least get them to leave the Magic Users they had targeted before alone for a little while by making some sort of arrangement.”

Silence settled over the group as they processed his words, and Donut used that opportunity to further hit his point home, “Having people on the inside could help us stay one step ahead so we aren’t caught from behind.”

Grif grimaced, his hands clenching tightly into fists at what exactly it was that Donut was implying they do, “No fucking way.”

He was surprised when Doc cut off his further protest on just how fucking _stupid_ that was, a look of concerned worry all over his face, “Are…are you sure that would be a wise thing to do?”

“We…we can’t be sure of anything right now.” Simmons’ voice was barely a whisper when he spoke up then, but there was an odd glimmer of stubbornness in his green eyes as he looked up at everyone, “B—but Donut’s right. This could be our best bet to at least get them to stop targeting Magic Users here.”

Grif said nothing at the redhead’s comment, feeling as though his voice had somehow shriveled up and died in his throat. Simmons was unable to even look him in the eyes as explosive arguments and debates suddenly began going off all around them in a deafening cacophony.

*****

“Thanks again, you guys, for everything.” Franklin Delano Donut stated as cheerily as he could to Sarge and Lopez on the outskirts of the clearing that they had agreed would be their meeting point with Price’s men once they had gotten in contact with him.

Sarge harrumphed, his voice thick with emotion as he awkwardly patted the younger man on the shoulder, “Red Team’s proud to have you as a member, son.”

“Aw, gee, Sarge! You’re going to make me cry!” Donut’s smile was a teary-albeit-encouraging one, “We’re going to see each other again, you’ll see. I won’t let you down!”

“Of course you won’t.” Sarge leaned in closer, lowering his voice, “And look after Simmons as best you can, all right? Boy’s gonna be a wreck.”

“Will do, Sarge!” Donut saluted the older man before turning to Lopez, “I’ll miss our talks a ton, Lopez!”

“Estabas bien en pequeñas dosis, supongo. Intenta no matarte.” _{“You were all right in small doses, I guess. Try not to get yourself killed.”}_

“It might rain today after all, huh?” Donut patted Lopez’s shoulder as the artificial man let out a heavy sigh of exasperation and shook his head.

The pink-wearing human turned to face Doc next, the other man fidgeting slightly when his gaze landed on him. Donut smiled right back at him warmly, “It was really nice of you to see me off, Doc, even though we were just starting to get to know one another.”

A slight blush warmed the other man’s face, “I…well, I just wanted to make sure you’d be all right. That’s all.” He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head.

“Suave.” _{“Smooth.”}_

The dirty blond reached out and gripped his shoulder, “Thanks, Doc. You’re a great friend! We’ll have to try and meet up again later.”

“I, that’s…” Doc stumbled over his words for a bit before he finally looked at Donut’s face and smiled gently in return, awkwardly gripping the other man’s arm as he did so too, “Yes. Let’s.”

Donut took a step back from the trio, smiling once more and giving them another friendly wave before breaking away to head towards the middle of the clearing where Simmons was standing.

The redhead had already said his goodbyes before, and was so lost in the conflicting thoughts and emotions at war within himself that he didn’t even look up when Donut approached. The frown and worry creases on his face said it all, though.

“I would have thought more people would come to see us off.” Donut tried for casual conversation, though he knew that they had decided against a large group to avoid the Charon agents feeling threatened since this was supposed to be as close to a _“peaceful”_ tradeoff as they could get.

Simmons fidgeted slightly, a definite slump to his shoulders, “We already said goodbye to everyone else.” He reminded him.

“Right.” Donut nodded, recalling how teary-eyed he had gotten at having seen Simmons saying goodbye to his rather reluctant cousins in particular, “But I just figured that Grif would at least…”

He trailed off when he saw the stricken look that appeared on Simmons’ features then, reaching over to clasp a consoling hand on Simmons’ shoulder instead.

“Kai said that he was feeling under the weather from all of the alcohol we’d drunk before, s—so…” The maroon-wearing human’s voice wavered significantly then, and Donut knew that Simmons was well-aware that the younger Grif sibling had been trying to spare his feelings.

“Right.” The younger man decided to diplomatically say instead of commenting further.

Simmons sniffled slightly but tried covering it up, “I’m…I’m sure things will be fine.” He stated in one of those voices that said he didn’t really quite believe it himself.

Donut was about to say something when there was movement from up ahead. He looked up sharply as the _“escort”_ that Price had arranged to meet them came into view. His own heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears as he saw that it was Felix and Locus, and he was also very much aware of Simmons freezing up at his side.

…Suddenly his _“good idea”_ didn’t seem like the smartest move after all. Maybe his parents were right in that he didn’t have nearly as much of a knack for strategy as he did for party planning. Donut felt even guiltier that he had dragged Simmons into this mess with him too.

Felix smirked over at the two of them while Locus stood off to the side and watched impassively, for all the world an altogether intimidating and looming shadow in steel and green.

The shorter of the two mercenaries mockingly saluted Donut, “Your Highness.” Felix stated in a voice that was practically dripping with sarcasm _(seriously, that was such bad taste!)_ before fixing a rather largely unimpressed gaze on Simmons, “And you actually _did_ bring the Replicant along with you too!”

Simmons took a step forward, only shaking slightly despite how clearly terrified he was now, “I…I came on my own.” He noted with what little bit of defiant nerve he could muster.

Donut was impressed by his friend’s actions, but that was quickly replaced with a new onslaught of worry when he saw how Felix’s smirk only widened, “Really, now?” His grin was as pointed and dangerous as the knives he always seemed to be so keen on using, “I’m sure your daddy will be all sorts of glad to hear that.”

“Wha…?” Simmons asked, his expression one of open shock and disbelief.

But, the brown-haired man with rather pointed ears apparently didn’t want to waste time letting the redhead process what he had said, instead taking the opportunity to stride behind Donut and Simmons in what could almost be mistaken for a casual manner with _just_ enough of his predatory nature slipping through beneath the surface to be unnerving. Felix reached out and slung his arms over their shoulders, pulling them closer to him in what was obviously meant to be a mockery of what could normally be construed as a comradely gesture.

“Oh,” Felix stated in an eerily cheerful voice as he cast a rather significant look over in Locus’ direction just then, all but ignoring the two terrified people he was still currently draped over, “We are going to have _so_ much fun together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie-dokie, I feel like I should totally and whole-heartedly apologize for the very large and very cruel cliffhanger of DOOM that I just ended _Volume I_ on. XD I am really, really sorry about that but, yes, that was honestly the way I had always planned to end this first portion of the story because it sets the stage for the first part of _Volume II_ so very, very nicely.
> 
> All things considered, _Volume II_ is shaping up to be an even LONGER story arc than _Volume I_ was. So, I hope that you will stick around for it as I already have so many plans in store for all of the characters and pairings. And, since I am a sucker for that sort of thing in general, here’s to hoping that Grif and Simmons will FINALLY get their long overdue happy ending together when all is said and done, along with everybody else too! *crosses fingers* :D
> 
> I will be taking a bit of a break from the _Remnants_ series to get out a few chapters and installments of my other WIPs, but that just means I will have more of an outline on hand for when _Volume II_ gets well and truly underway. I’m hoping that it won’t be too long of a wait though since I’m quite eager to get the ball rolling even more on this little odd duck of a Fantasy AU of mine! :D
> 
> I should probably mention it now that this story was largely inspired by the awesome fantasy world-building seen in _RWBY_ along with the absolutely stellar RPG series known as _The Legends of Heroes: Trails of…_ by Falcom and the also excellent Bioware RPG series _Dragon Age_. Calling each story arc a “Volume” is a direct homage to _RWBY_ , and the reason behind the cliffhanger ending here is totally due to the way each season of that series tends to end, as well as how each _LoH: Trails of…_ game in particular usually ends on a massive cliffhanger that ties into the subsequent one. XD I’m a sucker for well-crafted fantasy stories and world-building in general, and I totally recommend those three titles to anyone who are fans of their particular mediums! :)
> 
> Also, Donut being the prince in this story who has a bit more to his character than he usually lets on? Totally inspired by a certain awesome royal from the _LoH: Trails of…_ series too. XD Anyone who knows who I am talking about gets a virtual cookie! :D
> 
> I really do want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who has stuck by this lengthy story of mine, and I hope that it has been at least a somewhat enjoyable ride so far. The best is yet to come, so please be sure to check out _Remnants: Volume II_ when it comes out as well! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out these lovely _Remnants_ artworks by the incredibly talented [blankslate101](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/):
> 
> [Tuckington 1](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnant-Tuckington-700938303)
> 
> [Simmons](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnant-AU-Simmons-700911845)
> 
> [Tucker](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-AU-Tucker-700912646)
> 
> [Grimmons 1](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-grimmons-700935335)
> 
> [Ships](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-Ships-700918212)
> 
> [Tuckington 2](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Renment-tuckington-700917854)
> 
> [Grimmons 2](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-Grimmons-700913778)
> 
> [Washington](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-AU-Wash-700913202)
> 
> [Grif](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/RVB-Remnants-AU-Grif-700908753)
> 
> ...Words cannot express how truly astounded and grateful I am for these. They are absolutely gorgeous. Thank you so much for sharing them! :D


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